Smile Like You Mean It
by Dailenna
Summary: Royai 100 Themes. Anything and everything from childhood, to alchemy, to Ishbal, to the coup, to parenthood. Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye, and the faithful comrades with them will stick together through it all.
1. Military Personnel

Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist belongs to Arakawa Hiromu. The song "Smile Like You Mean It" from which I borrowed the title belongs to The Killers.

Notes: I've been meaning to get back into the swing of writing, and these 100 themes helped me do it. I started writing around the beginning of January (maybe a little before), and finished on the second of February. So, without further ado, I present the first of the Royai 100 to you.

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"**Smile Like You Mean It**" by **Dailenna**

**One: Military Personnel**

"Ugh! Lieutenant -Colonel Hughes, if you cannot keep your talk of your family to yourself, I will bar you from using the military lines for such banal communication!"

Maes Hughes pouted at the telephone operator, holding himself back from telling her Gracia, his wife, wouldn't have overreacted like that. His eyebrows jumped and face lit up as he realised his situation wasn't so bad. "If you won't listen, I'll just call Colonel Mustang! He'll appreciate hearing about Elycia learning to ride her tricycle!"

The woman watched hopelessly as Hughes set off down the corridor, a spring in his step, wondering whether reminding him of Mustang's outburst last time would just cause him to round back on her, pictures in hand.


	2. Gunshot

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Reference to the end of chapter 30; Set in the first few pages of chapter 31.

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**Two: Gunshot**

When Roy had had the time to calm down and verify that Barry was who he said he was, he noticed the odd round hole in the suit of armour's right shoulder. The eerie lights shining out from Barry's helmet took on an excitable glow.

"If I was still in my old body," he said, hefting the cleaver in his right hand onto his knee, "that would have gone right through the ball-and-socket joint of my shoulder. Would have stopped me from ever chopping again." What could have been described as a chuckle rattled around in the hollow cage of armour. "That Missy has one hell of a shot."

Mustang clenched his teeth and looked over to where his Lieutenant was quietly exchanging words with Falman.


	3. Battlefield

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: This one is set before the main FMA storyline, during the Ishbal war.

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**Three: Battlefield**

Two ashen-faced soldiers sat in the sand together; one with arms draped over his legs, the other's folded together on his knees, chin resting upon forearms. They sat in silence, each dwelling on his own thoughts, condemning himself and his actions.

A wince twisted at the bespectacled soldier's face before he spoke. "Y'know, Roy, _love_ is a battlefield. This? This is a massacring grounds."

Somewhere not too far behind them, a weary sniper shouldered her rifle and stumbled away to her next duty.


	4. Grave

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

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**Four: Grave**

It was one of those days; Colonel Mustang had become quiet again. Not sad – to outward appearances, at least – but pensive, as though some thought was pestering him. Hawkeye watched him questioningly, waiting for him to return from his reverie. After some time he looked up, catching her gaze. They exchanged glances, he taking on her curious expression, and she adopting his thoughtful frown.

"Something bothering you, sir?"

"Hmm?"

She tilted her head to one side. "You've been in a daze all morning."

"I . . ." He paused, tight-lipped, looking at the doorway his other subordinates might come trooping back through any minute now. "Just realising that the only things I remember of my parents are their graves."


	5. Heiki & Heiki, Weapon & Fine

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: For those unfamiliar with the array, you can find it in the manga, in Chapter 57, on page 31. Er, kinda very spoilerish :P

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**Five: Heiki & Heiki (Weapon & Fine)**

It had been a moment of complete and utter ambivalence, and Roy Mustang despised himself for it. She had been so beautiful, yet so down-trodden – so quiet and fearful – and he finally understood why. What was to become the military's greatest weapon had been injected millimetre by millimetre into her back. It was a despicable thing to do to a child.

And yet, the magnificence of the array took his breath away.


	6. Death

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: A very short one :) They're all short right now, but they'll get longer later on, as my ideas start becoming more complicated.

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**Six: Death**

"Just the next great adventure," he had heard.

Adventure, perhaps. Great? He hesitantly agreed that it could be considered so. But next? He had done much in his life that he'd considered good, and much that he considered monstrous, but that was not enough. Not while she was still by his side. Together they'd share the next great adventure, and death could wait its turn.


	7. Crime and Punishment

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: This is where they start getting longer :P My brain decided I needed some plot, I think.

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**Seven: Crime and Punishment**

Riza Hawkeye was unlocking the door to her apartment when she heard the crash from inside. She paused, clenching her jaw, and walked in briskly, shutting the door behind her. When she entered her kitchen, she came to a halt.

"Hayate, heel!"

The dog stopped prancing around her frustrated friend and the smashed plates on the floor, and trotted over happily, standing readily at her feet for further instruction. He managed to step in the mess of spaghetti on the tiles along his way, and tracked the mess further.

"Roy, if you can't control a puppy for fifteen minutes, I don't know how you manage to control your office for a whole day." She sent a meaningful look at him, and stooped to pick up her dog, wincing at the sauce on his paws. "I'm going to clean Hayate so he doesn't make this worse. I expect you to clean this up, and fix those plates."

Mustang sighed and bent down to draw an alchemical array in the sauce – quite like finger-painting. As Riza turned to head to the bathroom, she heard him mutter that Hayate made _most_ of the mess. She bit her lip, trying not to think about how much mess that meant Mustang made on his own.


	8. Storelined Streets

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Didn't realise I hadn't posted this one. Must have uploaded and forgotten to add it to the story, sorry.

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**Eight: Store-lined Streets**

There wasn't a lot that Riza Hawkeye wanted out of life. Frankly, she would be content if she died in the line of duty, so long as she didn't fail her job by doing so. Her death would keep Roy Mustang alive, so long as he didn't stray from the path he had chosen to follow. She feared what she would have to do if he ever allowed himself to become corrupted.

Despite his lofty goals for the country, Roy Mustang quite similarly didn't want much for himself. He would be happy to live a simple life under a peaceful reign, but while the country readied itself for war – not so long after bandaging wounds from the last one – he would remain vigilant. All he asked was that she remained by his side.

When this was over, they wouldn't have to worry about "All they wanted in life," because they'd have it in each other. And they would walk together through a city blissfully ignorant of just how fragile were the lives of those walking the store-lined streets.


	9. Before We Knew Each Other

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: This is potentially spoilerish for a revelation in Chapter 87 (Page 6, to be precise, although the entire first scene puts it together so much more nicely than one page alone), but not straight out. Just hints. Later parts written about the childhood are more obvious.

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**Nine: Before We Knew Each Other**

There was only one family on the platform when the train arrived. A tall, imposing woman kept an amused eye on the girls with her, exchanging a glance with the man who had accompanied them – a family friend. A sharp reminder prompted two of the girls to stop arguing about the hats they held and pop them on their heads just in time before a man with painfully perfect posture stepped off the train, holding a small suitcase. He set the case down and turned to lift the child behind him over the gap between the train and the station.

When the man introduced himself and verified he was addressing the right family, he put a hand on the boy's back and pushed him forwards, stopping him from hiding from those he had come to meet.

"This is Shi-kuen. I believe the paperwork and official business have already been taken care of?"

The woman smiled. "Yes, that was done at the orphanage." She looked down at the boy. His eyes met hers boldly, but his face remained passive. "We'll call you Roy."

Somewhere in the outskirts of the city a pregnant woman stopped to feel the baby in her womb kicking.


	10. Promise

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: This one may not be particularly funny or dramatic or anything like that, but I think it has a touch of Arakawa in it :3 Mainly because I reused a line from the manga, I guess, but it ain't the same person saying it.

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**Ten: Promise**

"Promise me something, Hawkeye."

She put her head to one side. "Sir?"

There was a moment in which Colonel Mustang swivelled around in his chair, contemplatively. "If I die before achieving my goals . . . carry them out for me." His lips tightened. "Or if you don't think you can, find someone who will and push them to the top."

"Sir," she said, remonstrance in her voice, "don't say such depressing things."


	11. Liar

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: I had forgotten to post Store-lined Streets, but I've put it up and into it's correct place now.

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**Eleven: Liar**

The room was dark, all of the lights turned off as though everyone had left, but the two of them still stood there, watching one another silently. Neither moved, but adrenaline pumped through both of the frozen figures, and they knew that something would break soon.

She let out a shuddering breath, the tear-tracks on her cheeks reflecting the moonlight that shone in through the window. "Fuhrer Mustang. I said- I said that if you ever strayed from your path to do right by the people I would shoot you."

His mouth tightened sadly, and he stood from behind his desk, eyes set on hers, not once looking at the gun held shakily in her hand. Slowly, he walked towards her, and gripped her wrist with one hand, the other softly brushing her tears away as he squeezed to make her loosen her grip. He stroked her cheek tenderly when the gun finally dropped to the floor, and whispered, almost victoriously, "Liar."

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_Notes: This is the first one that stood out to me. It turned out just the way I wanted. Oddly enough, if it was part of the anime, or a scene in a movie or something, it'd be entirely different, because of the camera angles (I can see them clearly), and the loud music playing over the top of it. Or at least the end of it. Unfortunately, I don't have the particular piece I'm thinking would play then, and don't know what it's called, but since I want to give a musical reference for you, I'd say . . . perhaps in the style of Rachmaninov's Prelude in C sharp minor, op. 3, no. 2, from about 2:20 onwards_ very quietly _starting with the third paragraph, slowly getting louder until the beat right on 2:38, which would be just as she dropped the gun. My story finishes on 2:43, on that hanging note, but the music continues in much the same way the story might._


	12. Proof

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: A bit OOC :P

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**Twelve: Proof**

Hughes' grin was so wide it was starting to scare Mustang. He could almost feel the red flush creeping onto his cheeks.

"You love her, don't you?" the bespectacled man asked, eyes twinkling.

Mustang frowned, trying to straighten out his mind. "Of course not. Don't be silly!"

Hughes shrugged, still smiling. "Then prove it."

"P-_prove it?_" Mustang asked, looking at the other man as though he were crazy. "How am I supposed to do that?"

"Well, for one, you could stop looking up every time she enters the room."

"I'm just checking to see who came in – I can't help it."

One of Hughes' eyebrows quirked. "She barely makes a sound coming in. I don't even know how you know someone's opened the door. Besides, you never look up for anyone else."


	13. Betrayal

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: . . . May I draw your attention to Chapter 69, Pages 27 and 28? :P

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**Thirteen: Betrayal**

It was with a smile that Roy waved Valerie off that night. She kissed her hand and blew it after him as he drove off. It wasn't until he had arrived back at home and relaxed that he pulled out the message she had given him, and carefully went through the information, checking it against what she had said to him over dinner to make sure he had understood correctly, and hadn't missed anything.

Sometimes he felt guilty, taking these other women out to dinner when he hadn't so much as treated Riza to coffee. Not when they could sit down and enjoy it together, anyway. But this was a very organised betrayal of sorts, and he knew that she understood.


	14. Covered Eyes

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

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**Fourteen: Covered Eyes**

Crimes against their leader and their country – that's what had her here. It was a serious charge, and neither her own wit nor her contacts would have been able to get her out of the situation. Not that she would try if they could have: Riza Hawkeye was dedicating her life to a larger cause than herself. If she was the scapegoat, sobeit. That was why she stood here now, blindfolded and hands tied behind her back, awaiting her execution with bated breath.


	15. Scent of Blood

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: A bit of twisting of events.

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**Fifteen: Scent of Blood**

It was midnight when the knocking on his door started – the clock in the hallway had just chimed – but a few minutes passed before the insistent tap-tap-tap (and finally _thud-thud-thud_) woke him and dragged him out to see what the commotion was. An urgent hollering cut off mid-sentence when the door swung open. Mustang found himself suddenly awake.

A pale-faced Feury supported an even paler Hawkeye on Mustang's doorstep.

"Sir, he knows!" she cried weakly, clutching at her side with the hand not draped over Feury's shoulders. "The time to act is now!"

Ushering them in and closing the door on the empty doorstep, Mustang let Feury fuss over Hawkeye as she spoke, staining his lounge with the blood on her coat.

That was the night that set their coup into action. They didn't fight to kill, but injuries had to be made in order to win. It wasn't as bad as Ishbal – it didn't haunt his nightmares; but whenever he woke in the night, he could still smell the blood on the streets and on his lounge.


	16. Reaching Voice & Unreachable With Voice

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: What I've written here is sorta connected to what I wrote for theme five (Heiki & Heiki).

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**Sixteen: Reaching Voice & Unreachable With Voice**

The floor beneath her bed was filthy, and dusty, and Riza's nose itched as she lay there, curled up as close to the wall as she could, to make herself less likely to be found. She didn't like hiding – it didn't seem right. Riza was a quiet, pleasant child who always obeyed orders, not one who tried to rebel against the whims of adults. But that was what had her in this predicament in the first place.

Biting down on her trembling lip, she told herself furiously that she was too old to be hiding underneath her bed, all the while wishing she had thought to do so earlier, when she was still so eager to please her father. Her back burned as he called her name again, sounding irritated now, and she knew that she was just inviting punishment on herself. It was just so emotionally draining to pretend to be pleased with the markings he had pricked onto her, and to show him, as though he cared more for the picture than for her.

So there she was, underneath her bed, hearing her father's voice move away, and not listening one little bit.


	17. Scars

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Fortunately, the salubrious little fellow is no-one we know.

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**Seventeen: Scars**

"My most memorable scar?"

Havoc grinned around his cigarette. "Feury answered that one about the thing he regrets the most, and you saw what that took out of him." Across the room, the young, bespectacled man reddened, head ducking down.

Seeing Mustang lean forward out of the corner of her eye, about to change the topic, Hawkeye contemplated her options carefully before smiling down at the blue uniform pants she still wore, despite work having been finished for over an hour. "There's a long, thin one on my leg from a barbed-wire fence I lived near as a child."

Mustang's tense frown turned into a snicker, and Havoc gave her a nudge. "So, how'd you get it?"

"Some lout tried to kiss me, and I backed right up into the thing." There was a laugh and an amused frown or two, sensing the story wasn't over. "It really only served to fuel my outrage at the time, and so when he tried to grope me, under the guise of helping me out, I decked him and hobbled home."

As the laughs died down and the next story started, Mustang sent her a smile, as an apology for assuming she couldn't take care of her own secrets.


	18. I Don't Want To Realise

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: I'm going to be away to help out on a camp from about 5 this afternoon until 9pm the following night . . . trying to figure out how to keep posting up to date. I may just post two before I leave, if I have the time.

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**Eighteen: I Don't Want To Realise**

When it came to love, Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye would be considered patient. Neither needed a romantic relationship to be immediate, despite the fact that their mission hardly gave them the longest estimated life-spans. They could have died in any number of ways before a peaceful country became reality, and they were aware of that fact. It didn't push them into the romantic relationship that always seemed just on the horizon, though, and no-one who knew them could understand why.

Acting as though they had all the time in the world for everything except reaching the top, they worked hard and well together. Regardless of the dangers, they treated each other with caution, and the reason was simple: they didn't want to realise some day that they had new dreams now, and they might never have a chance to fulfil them. So they worked towards that brighter future, until they would be free to dream together.


	19. Things One Cannot Understand

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Because of a shared reference to a particular section of the manga, this piece is also related to the pieces I wrote for themes #30 and #90. You'll have to wait for their turn to see those themes, though! The particular manga section referred to is, of course, Chapter 37, pages 3, 4, 13, 26, 27, and 31-33.

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**Nineteen: Things One Cannot Understand**

"Women. They just don't act _normally_." Havoc glared in the direction of his boss' empty desk, noting the unfinished paperwork.

"That depends on what you consider normal," Breda reasoned, twiddling his pen between his fingers.

Havoc shrugged. "I dunno. But all that _gushing_ and _flirting_ and _giggling_. I don't understand it! How can one man inspire so much from so many different women?"

There was a pause as Breda stared at his co-worker, taking in the wistful look on his face. Then he turned back to the work on his desk. "Not all women, though."

"No, of course not. Just . . . most."

"Hawkeye doesn't act like that."

Havoc laughed at the thought of the stoic woman gushing all over Mustang as though he was some delectable morsel, but stopped suddenly as he remembered Feury's amused account of the conversation he overheard in the clock tower, that mission. He shook it from his head – it was a mission. Of course she was acting differently. "But she's normal. Of course she doesn't."

"Actually," Breda said, thinking it through, "considering the statistics, that would make her abnormal."

"Huh?"

There were some things Havoc just couldn't wrap his head around.


	20. Murderer

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Part 14 of my Future storyline arc. This particular one is set maybe ten years after the manga (or, what we know of the manga, anyway).

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**Twenty: Murderer**

He'd killed them. Lifeless eyes stared up at Roy Mustang accusingly, and he stared back, horrified. One body seemed to move, and he jumped before he realised that it was a trick of the light and slumped back into his hopeless despair. What had he done?

The fish-bowl had been the pride and joy of their house for the past two weeks, and already he'd managed to kill each and every one of the fishies he'd bought to lighten up the place with some life. Riza wouldn't be happy with this – she'd warned him time and again to make sure he remembered how much to feed them. Worse still, how was he going to break it to his son?


	21. Confession

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Part 16 of my Future storyline arc. This one is inspired by personal experience. Unfortunately, I was not the one in Riza's position there . . .

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**Twenty-one: Confession**

The floor of the children's playroom was an amalgamation of cars, soft toys and crayons. A small table and chair set made its home in one corner, over a linoleum mat that had been laid to stop any mess from being stomped into the carpet. Cookie cutters and plastic stamps were strewn over the table-top, only inches from the tray they were supposed to be kept in when they weren't being used. The only thing that didn't appear to be out and making a mess of the room was the oddly absent Play-Doh.

Taken aback by the mess two children could make, Riza stopped in the doorway. One of the chairs for the table set was empty, the other occupied by a small girl with dark hair. Her back was turned to her mother as her hands worked furiously, moving up and down.

"Suri," Riza said, trying to keep the shocked tone out of her voice. "This room is a-!" She cut off, the girl having turned to face Riza with a guilty expression. Little cheeks bulged slightly, and her hands fell away from her mouth. Riza frowned, and glanced at the empty space on the table in front of the girl. "Are you eating the Play-Doh again?"

As Suri shook her head a sliver of blue-and-orange colour showed between her lips.


	22. God

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

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**Twenty-two: God**

Roy Mustang was a scientist, not some religious person. He didn't believe in some being watching over the whole human race, waiting for them to make a mistake.

When he was forced to kill people with his work and his research, engulfing them in flames that took so long to take life (he could still hear their screams at night), he cried up to the heavens, asking whatever thing people believed was there if this was its idea of justice. The soldiers around him gave pitiful glances to the alchemist raging against God only to receive no reply, but they didn't feel it as he did – when he sent out his sorrow and anguish in his words, they echoed back, pulsating and alive, and he couldn't speak for the fear that he had been wrong all along.


	23. Someone I Want To Protect

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: I think I could have done better setting the scene if I hadn't been thinking, "Oh, it's getting too long already . . .". Next time I shall have to ignore that idea and just write it however long it needs to be, I guess. Not all of my responses to the themes have to be similar length.

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**Twenty-three: Someone I Want to Protect**

Inky green waters grew darker as one last lungful of air bubbles escaped from her mouth. The bubbles floated sideways past her face, and Riza dully thought, "Oh, so the surface is that way." Her first floundering minute trying to determine which direction was up had burned at her lungs in a way that would have been welcome when compared to the feeling in her chest now – this shrivelled, clawing feeling trying to draw her beyond consciousness. It distracted her wonderfully from the throbbing ache in her shoulder, caused by a gunshot that she now would have preferred to have taken in the heart – it would have stopped this agony sooner. Her blood was curling out into the water, in ribbons and wisps that should draw flesh-eaters with enough time.

She had been watching one particular ribbon while debating whether to breathe the water in, now her air was gone, and frowned as it whipped away unexpectedly, strands of her hair following it. Something gripped her about the waist – an arm, she assumed, given the fingers digging into her hip – and she let it pull her along.

Then, all of a sudden, her head broke the surface, and air – precious air! – assaulted her lungs, scratching her throat with the sharpness of the night. She gasped, coughing in surprise, and was hauled out of the water onto the jetty by two pairs of hands.

"Hawkeye! Hawkeye! Can you hear me?"

She nodded fiercely, clinging to the jetty desperately and blinking salt water out of her eyes. Further commotion made her lift her head, trying to focus on what was happening back at the water.

"Boss, are you alright? Boss?"

A spray of water flicked onto Hawkeye as she tried to sit up (she didn't make it, as she had forgotten about the bullet in her shoulder, and fell back down when the wound twinged terribly). A struggling Mustang was set down beside her. He coughed again and again, spitting up water, and scrambled to the edge of the jetty, retching over the side.

Giddy that she was alive, Hawkeye laughed quietly. "Don't kill yourself over me, sir."

She could hear the glare in his voice as he snapped back at her angrily. "Never do that again, Hawkeye. Jumping in front of a bullet for me? You could have died!"

She laughed again, but before she could speak he continued. "You aren't the only one who has someone to protect."


	24. Not There

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Spoilers here for chapter 26 onwards.

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**Twenty-four: Not There**

When Roy Mustang found out that the problems with his country's administration were so much more than a corrupt or violent official, his life flashed before his eyes. Going up against a human was one thing, but against a creature created with alchemy? He wouldn't know what to do! Unless he could _un_-alchemise it, somehow, and how was he supposed to do that?

The thing that terrified him most about an inhuman opponent was that he couldn't predict the sorts of moves it would make – what limitations did it pass by that humans could not, or what limitations did it have that humans did not? Mustang's skin crawled with unease, and he entered the office apprehensively each day, knowing that at some point he might walk in to find that his carefully selected subordinates may just not be there.


	25. So I'm Crying

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Running on from (and thus a spoiler for) a particular scene in chapter 39 :3 (Pages 18 through to 40 make up the scene. The first line of my dialogue is taken from the last line on page 40.)

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**Twenty-five: So I'm Crying**

Kneeling next to Mustang where he lay upon the ground, Hawkeye couldn't help but notice how pale and exhausted he looked. Flecks of dirt and blood streaked his face, and even though his hand didn't seem injured, his right palm was covered with dried blood. His breathing was shallow, possibly because the slight expansion of his chest exacerbated the giant burn on his side, where he had cauterised his own injury in order to continue to fight. Stupid man.

"Yes," he said shortly, agreeing with Alphonse Elric's suggestion. His eyes scrunched up as he spoke, trying to distract himself from the pain. "Get a doctor for Havoc. Please."

"Havoc, sir?" Hawkeye asked. The man had been with Mustang when they split up to search the area, and hadn't returned with him.

Mustang opened his eyes, looking at his Lieutenant. "Hawkeye, you've been crying."

She wiped a hand across her face, smudging dust along tear-tracks. "It's nothing."


	26. Cureless

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Spoilers for Ishbal flashback. Erm, lemme find it . . . Chapter 60, pages 27 through to 31, assuming that Hughes told Mustang all about it.

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**Twenty-six: Cureless**

There were times during the Ishbal war, when Roy despaired of the future of his country, that he thought a talented enough speaker could convince the leadership of Amestris to change its ways; to stop following this ruthless path of destruction. With enough conviction and the right words, someone could turn Fuhrer Bradley's heart. The man was jovial and pleasant – it must have been that he didn't see what was happening right in front of him.

But Mustang learnt, over time, that Bradley's cheerful demeanour was a façade, covering his true intentions, and that he couldn't be cured of this behaviour. It was then that Mustang decided that he would become Fuhrer and let people see what peace truly looked like.


	27. Dependency

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Sometimes, for the themes I post at night, I don't realise I haven't posted them until really late, and sort of jump when I remember. Tonight was a big jump XD Mainly because I'm tired, rather than actual lateness, I think. This one's another I'm fond of.

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**Twenty-seven: Dependency**

It was a slow day. Work was getting done at snail's pace, conversation was in abundance, and cigarette smoke hung around Havoc's desk in a way in which it was never usually permitted. _Although_, reasoned Havoc as he lit up his fourth cigarette of the hour, i_t wouldn't be good for this to happen every day, otherwise nothing would get done._ He shook his packet of cigarettes lightly, just to remind himself there were more there for later, and put them in his top pocket, reminding himself to listen to the story Breda was telling.

Mustang had been working furiously at his desk, but chanced to look up at that moment. "Havoc," he snapped. "Two a day was the rule. Leave the rest for outside the office."

Glumly, Havoc started putting the cigarette out carefully. "Yes, boss." He inspected his work, and tucked it back in its box, having deemed its condition was good enough that it could feasibly be smoked later.

"The Colonel's been irritated all day," Falman said during their break. "Did something happen?"

Breda snorted through a mouthful of mashed potato and swallowed before he could choke on it. "Didn't notice Hawkeye's not at work today?"

"Well, yes, I-" Falman started.

"He's dependent on her," Havoc interrupted, fork-in-mouth. He grinned. "She's like his drug."

Breda laughed again, and pointed towards Havoc's top pocket. "I guess you'd know."


	28. Pain and Wounds

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: I love Ed in cases like these. He's just so much fun to write as an imp . . .

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**Twenty-eight: Pain and Wounds**

"I've told you before, Fullmetal, to _knock_ before you enter!" Mustang growled nasally at Edward, one hand clamped over his nose.

Edward snickered and dropped down into a spare seat, lounging as only a teenage boy could know how. "Seems to me I arrived right on time."

Just enough time had passed for Mustang to scowl in the boy's direction before Hawkeye appeared once more through the door that had been conveniently left open this time, to avoid further injury. Tissues had been collected from the next office down ("Why don't we have any here?" Mustang had snarled at the time), and she pried Mustang's hand away from his face to help mop up the mess, scolding both Edward and Mustang for: a) flinging the door open so hard, and b) standing close to the doorway when he knew Edward was coming.

"Ow! Be careful!" Mustang whined when she dabbed just a bit too hard at his nose.

"Don't be such a child," she said matter-of-factly, accompanied by Edwards chuckles. "You've had much worse before."

"Ahh," Edward sighed. He sounded very satisfied indeed. "If only the doorknob managed to catch his hip, too. That'd be something to boast about. Or even-"

"Edward!"

He shut his mouth at Hawkeye's tone, but the cheeky smile remained, broadening when her back turned again.


	29. Existence

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

* * *

**Twenty-nine: Existence**

Mustang liked to think that his existence made a difference. He liked to think it, but . . . sometimes he wasn't entirely sure that it did. After all, what had he achieved in his life? Sure, his goals were lofty, and bringing peace to Amestris would truly validate his existence, but that was all if Everything Worked Out.

No, if he didn't end up achieving anything, he wasn't sure that his existence would have truly meant anything at all. Hawkeye's existence, however . . . Well, it meant everything. Every moment she remained by his side she brought him that step closer to finally achieving everything, and he was grateful for every second of it.


	30. Conversation

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: This piece is related to those I wrote for themes #19 and #90. This one shows the conversation referred to previously. The particular manga section referred to is (still) Chapter 37, pages 3, 4, 13, 26, 27, and 31-33.

* * *

**Thirty: Conversation**

They never really spoke about the little details – they were so focussed on the path ahead that all they tended to speak about was important information. At least, in the office. Who knew how they acted if they met on the street, or perchance at one another's house, other than they? But all Kain Feury knew was that business-like office communiqué, until The Clock Tower Mission.

Communication was necessary to keep Mustang in the loop, from where he waited in the office. He was there so that the superior officers didn't think Mustang and all his subordinates had skipped out for the day. The rest of the group? They were in assorted places, keeping an eye on the bait – one ex-con in a can, Barry the Chopper – and Hawkeye had the headset that was currently connected to the phone-line in Mustang's office. Feury, the techie of the group, got to take care of the various electronics that kept that line working, and had a spare headset, so he could hear if the line got cut off or was particularly static-ridden, and fix it without Hawkeye having to yell through to the next room, where he waited. They had worried about the line being tapped, or plain old eavesdropping from a nosy soldier passing by Mustang's office, and so instead of concise, efficient conversation Feury usually heard between his two superior officers, they spoke in code.

"Hello Elizabeth!" A code name, of course, so the officers wouldn't know who was really at the other end. "How are you?"

"Why Mr. Roy, thank you for always calling me." Feury's ears perked up at the surprisingly _gushing_ tone of voice from the Lieutenant. "Are you calling from the office again?"

"Yes, I just had to hear your voice." Feury could hear the grin in Mustang's words, and almost flushed, feeling as though he was listening in on a private conversation.

"Oh! Aren't you smooth. But wouldn't your _scaaary_ Lieutenant be mad at you if you don't get back to work?" Hah_,_ even out of the office, she was still trying to convince him to get his work done. This sort of comment Feury didn't feel so embarrassed by.

"Don't worry," came Mustang's suave reply, "she's on her vacation right now."


	31. Home Cooking

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Not quite as pleased with this one as I am with most of these theme responses. Trying to figure out why, and I'm not totally sure. It could be that the idea isn't as original as it could be - it's exactly what the title says, and I didn't think more about what I could turn the title into. Erm, and both direct and indirect spoilers for each character's family life (or what I can put together of it).

* * *

**Thirty-one: Home Cooking**

Riza Hawkeye could never be considered a professional in the kitchen, but the necessity of learning to cook when she was fourteen and her father could no longer afford to keep the help had taught her a few basic skills that presented themselves quite nicely in a few recipes. It was nothing to make a dinner party with, but she could survive on what she knew how to cook, and brought variety to her diet by guessing what went well together, and taking hints from handy neighbours.

Roy Mustang wasn't a promising chef either, but he had the added bonus of growing up with a foster-mother and foster-sisters who could either teach him a thing or two, or cook for him – whichever they saw fit.

With the mix of curious experimentation and learned skills between them, they made a mean Spicy Pumpkin Soup.


	32. Shirt

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Sorry this is late. I was planning on posting this as I got ready for work, but then I found out work started an hour earlier than I thought and managed to rush through and only be half an hour late . . . Another one will still be posted tonight (my tonight) instead of setting it all back, so never fear!

* * *

**Thirty-two: Shirt**

The office was sweltering, once again, just as it had been the day before last, and the day before that. The windows had been pushed open to encourage a breeze, but not even a wisp of air seemed to move. In their seats, various officers groaned as they did or didn't do their work. Breda's uniform jacket no longer hung open to accommodate his belly, but was now slung across the back of his chair. Havoc had rolled his sleeves up, and even Hawkeye had unbuttoned the stiff blue jacket they each wore. Mustang leaned forwards, slouching over his desk rather than falling against his chair and risking his shirt sticking to his sweaty back.

"How can you not be boiling?" Havoc asked Hawkeye in a moan.

She looked up from the paper she had been working on, confused. "I assure you, I am." The sweat on her forehead seemed to agree.

"Yet you're still wearing your jacket, and you have a skivvy on underneath it besides," he insisted, taking solace in his own cotton business shirt.

Waving his hand with a heat-induced laze, Mustang abandoned the drawing he had been doodling at for the past ten minutes. "Her choice what to wear, whether it boils her or not."

Havoc looked back down at his own papers. "Still, just thinking about wearing that makes me feel hot."


	33. A Walk

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: I have to say, I love Black Hayate. He's such a cute dog.

* * *

**Thirty-three: A Walk**

It shouldn't have been that much hassle, really, it shouldn't have. All it was was a simple walk to the shops. One kilometre at most – and another, since she planned to walk back as well, but really _not that far! _Why did everything have to turn into some great battle?

Gritting her teeth, Riza stopped, keeping the seemingly-innocent puppy in her sights as she caught her breath. A great deal of her blonde hair had fallen out of the pony-tail she had arranged for what had been planned as a jog, and her cheeks were red, contrasting spectacularly with the pallor of the rest of her face.

Not noticing that his owner was out of countenance, Black Hayate – ever the positive little chap – started scampering off, _once again_, his lead trailing along the ground.

With what in normal people would be considered a groan, but in Riza Hawkeye must have been a sound of determination, Riza started off again, chasing after the mischievous puppy. If dogs were really this much trouble, why did she ever take him home?


	34. Telephone

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Part 9 of my Future storyline arc. I'm . . . quite fond of this one. It just makes me grin to think about it :D

* * *

**Thirty-four: Telephone**

As the brand new parents of a baby boy, Roy and Riza Mustang woke up at the first sign of distress, these days. That wasn't to say that they were terribly alert or enthusiastic about it, but they woke. So when one night their sleep was interrupted by a loud noise, they promptly talked about it like rational adults.

"Mm, you go get him," Roy said, rolling over and stuffing his face into the pillow.

"Wait," Riza said in a croaky voice, not having opened her eyes yet. "That's not Sasha, it's the phone."

There was a pause as Roy verified that fact with his own ears, and then he groaned. "It'll be something important, too." He still didn't move.

A penetrating wail joined the sound of the telephone in the air, and both parents let out an exhausted sigh.

"I'll get the phone, you get Sash," Roy said, finally rolling out of bed.


	35. Letter

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Oh, Roy . . .

* * *

**Thirty-five: Letter**

"Problems? What sort of problems?"

The whole office listened curiously to the messenger Colonel Mustang had just addressed.

"Well," the fellow said, stepping forwards. "These forms you were ordered to fill out last week" – he turned the files in his arms about so that Mustang could see them – "have been completed, as requested, but . . . entirely incorrectly! And not even with the right sort of answers. Here, where the profile of the terrorist Scar asked for the man's ethnicity, you've written 'mid- to late-thirties', and in the age section, you've written 'white, and shaved around the sides', even though the suggested space isn't large enough to hold such an answer!"

A wince appeared on Mustang's face. "I may have left an answer out somewhere and have forgotten to leave a line . . ."

"And recently , when confronting Ishballan troops with General Hackett and his battalion, the General asked you to watch his back while among the enemies. I'm informed that you stared at his back the entire time – in fact, you quite unnerved some of the other soldiers."

"I was ill," protested the Colonel. "I requested the day off to recuperate and it was denied me – I can't speak to the frame of my mind that day!"

The messenger, a Colonel himself, looked disbelievingly upon Mustang. "That's all well and good, but you will have to be more careful in the future. It seems you have a bad case of following the letter but not the spirit of the orders you're given."


	36. Dog

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Part 5 of my Future storyline arc. The theme "dog" generally points in the direction of Hayate. Not only had I just written a response about Hayate recently, but the word also reminded me of a story I found amusing that used the term much the same as I have here.

* * *

**Thirty-six: Dog** (Part 5 of the F. Storyline Arc)

"So Roy," Maes Hughes ventured with a grin, "Fuhrer, eh?"

Roy smirked, fiddling with his fork. The two were in Roy's new home – the lodgings of Amestris' Fuhrer. He'd been there a grand total of one week now, and although there was still much to be sorted out, both at work and at home, he needed a break, and hadn't seen his best friend for too long. So they were having a nice lunch together, before getting back to work on unpacking the books in the study.

Spearing a square of fish with his own fork, Maes's grin widened. "Hard job?"

"Challenging," Roy admitted, "but it'll be worth it." He had so many plans yet to put in place: removing troops from the borders and sending negotiation teams in their place, support for medical services and schooling, laws to change or alter . . .

"You might need a bit of help, then?"

Roy's smirk slid off, and he looked at his friend seriously. "Is this leading up to another '_Get a wife!_' spiel-?"

Maes shrugged, grin still in place. "I was just thinking that-"

"-Because I've already taken care of that."

Dumbstruck, Maes stopped, mid-sentence. Roy continued eating as though nothing had happened, letting Maes process the statement. Finally, the bespectacled man burst out with, "Mustang, you _dog_, you!" He leaned forwards conspiratorially. "It- it is . . ."

"Riza, yes." A smile crept back onto Roy's face.

"I take it to mean that you've _asked_ her, not just married her without telling me, because if you-"

Roy waved an impatient fork at him. "Don't worry, you'll get to be my best man."


	37. Match

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: I MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH ;A; Was getting so nervous and twitchy because I couldn't post these here that I started putting them up on LiveJournal XD I'm so happy this is working again now, though, hurrah! Anyway, about the theme response. This one was difficult. Even in going for originality, I wasn't sure what definition of 'match' to use, because so many of them have been used (match - the fire lighter thing; match - umm . . . things that look the same or go together; match - a tournament of sorts), so I went for the least used one, and put it in a new way (_not_ a chess match), and tried to fit the others in, too. I don't think I put that first one in, though :S Ah well. Oh, and the ending was kinda spawned for a recent love of the show NCIS, I guess.

* * *

**Thirty-seven: Match**

Walking into the office, a stack of new files in her arms, Hawkeye had to stop just inside the doorway to avoid tripping. The desks, which had formerly been arranged to make a giant rectangle together, had been pushed back to the edge of the room haphazardly, crushing the chairs against the walls. Five matching uniform jackets lay scattered around the room, each accompanied by the cape attachment that fastened about the waist of the Amestrian military uniform, and also a pair of boots.

Leaning against the newly arranged furniture were three of the room's occupants, still wearing their uniform shirts, trousers and socks (although those looked terribly stretched; she didn't know how they could wear them in that condition). The other two officers were in the middle of the room, wrestling, much to their own and the others' amusement.

"Close the door, Hawkeye," Mustang said cheerfully, barely taking his eyes off the pair in the middle. Hawkeye couldn't help but think that Feury was doing incredibly well against someone like Breda, but they barely seemed to be wrestling at all – it was more like they were dancing around one another.

She walked over to her desk, staying clear of the square she had just realised four uniform jackets had marked out, and dropped the files there before separating each person's workload and distributing it onto their desks. "What is this?" she asked as she walked.

"Sock wrestling," was Havoc's reply. "First person to get the other's sock off" – at that Hawkeye noticed both Breda and Feury were only wearing one of their socks – "is the winner. Winner plays the next match, too. Breda's played the last three matches. You want to join in?"

The grin on his face as he turned to face her made her raise her eyebrows, and she laughed when, without turning from the match, Mustang reached out a hand and slapped Havoc across the back of his head.


	38. Mischief

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: I love Ed in this role :3 Also Mustang in his antagonist role.

* * *

**Thirty-eight: Mischief**

"Sir, Fullmetal's here to give his report," Hawkeye said as she returned to the office after her break.

Mustang looked up, eyes searching the doorway, as though trying to see where she was hiding the younger alchemist.

"I saw him on my way back from the cafeteria – he should arrive at any-"

_Bang_. The door Hawkeye had carefully closed behind her flew open, slamming against the wall behind it, and swinging back a little too late to hit the boisterous blonde who had just entered. The calmer suit of armour behind him caught the door and closed it quietly behind them.

"Edward, you should be more careful," Hawkeye said, frowning at the boy.

"Ah, Alphonse, nice to see you again!" the Colonel said, jumping out of his seat with a grin on his face. "I assume that terrible treatment of my office door means you brother is here, too? Where is he?" Looking around, Mustang stared straight past Edward without acknowledging him. He leant over his desk, searching the ground.

The rumble started in Edward's throat, and Hawkeye sat down with a sigh, knowing this childishness had to be gone through before either could pretend to be tolerable today.

"_Who are you calling so short he could crawl under your door?!_"


	39. Sly Person

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

* * *

**Thirty-nine: Sly person**

When Mustang considered himself an intelligent – cunning, even – man, he could be considered pompous and proud, but by any modern standard, he would still be correct. He _was_ smart, and knew many things more than other people his age, both theoretical and practical. He knew how to start (and finish!) the alchemical reaction for fixing broken plates; he knew how to manoeuvre an enemy target into a trap; he knew how to instil fear or courage into the hearts of men with a well-delivered speech; he knew how to get important information by, under the noses of his rivals.

But despite all that he could do with his cunning mind, there was one thing he did not yet know how to do. Roy Mustang could not say 'no' to Riza Hawkeye. It wasn't that he was physically incapable of the act – in fact, he'd said the word, and several derivatives of it more than once to her – but rather that whenever he tried to foist off a task she had for him, or wheedle his way out of a sticky situation, he'd always find himself doing just as she wished, however reluctantly he might have done it.

Completing paperwork, taking Hayate for a walk, letting her put herself in danger – it was all the same. She just wouldn't take "No" for an answer, and for that reason, Mustang realised he couldn't be as cunning as he thought himself. Or perhaps it was just that as compared to her mind, he was still a child.


	40. Halves

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: This particular one is in an omake sort of style, so it's not necessarily what I expect the characters to be like. This is more . . . a caricature of them, I guess.

* * *

**Forty: Halves** (omake-style)

When Roy Mustang had his mind set on something, he certainly didn't do it by halves. Some people would learn alchemy to be able to make small adjustments to almost inconsequential things, but Roy? He leapt for fire alchemy the moment he could – the most powerful alchemy known. Some people were content to help the needy in the country one at a time, but Roy had to get to the top of the dung-heap that was Amestris, so that he could help them all. Some people would have been content with changing the uniform so that jackets were optional during summer, but Roy went the whole way and declared female summer uniform to include a miniskirt.

Yes, when Roy Mustang had his mind set on something, he certainly didn't do it by halves. Neither did the female members of the military when they all unanimously refused to follow Part B of his new uniform policy.


	41. Coat

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Spoilers for Roy's family. If you're perceptive.

* * *

**Forty-one: Coat**

The mess had been disastrous. Who would have known the sort of trouble a four-year-old could make with pencils? The girls, thinking only to occupy him while they went and played in the backyard without him, had each donated one pencil to his amusement before leaving him alone in the house.

When Chris Mustang walked through the hallway, she had stopped, stared at all the Xingian symbols, and considered the options. Her call for the children had brought three startled girls inside, and, almost a minute later, an unabashed Roy. She stopped berating the girls and looked at him. "I don't want you drawing on the walls," she said simply. "You can help in either washing it off or putting a new coat of paint over it – your choice."

One of the girls protested – "Why didn't _he_ get a lecture?"

The frown reappeared on the elder Mustang's face. "Because I haven't had to tell him the same thing before. You three are helping, too."


	42. Day Off

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Mustang does cleaning to get out of work. The others do cleaning because they've finished everything else . . .

* * *

**Forty-two: Day Off**

Roy Mustang didn't often take time off work. There was too much to be done to let himself waste away his days. Besides, he liked to save up his time off for times of need – missions he couldn't complete through the military.

But because of that very habit of storing up his leave and very rarely taking it, he had been put on an enforced holiday for an entire week. He was informed that the other members of his office would be too, in their turn, but not all at once – it wouldn't do to have the entire office absent and leave work piling up on desks.

When Mustang returned to the office, he looked around, feeling out of sorts. The room had been cleaned so impeccably that he wondered whether he had turned into the wrong one by accident.

"Colonel! Welcome back!" said Feury, walking in behind him.

"Feury . . . What's all this?" Mustang asked, gesturing to the organised desks, the polished floor – the _gleaming_ windows.

Feury took a moment to understand what he was talking about. "Oh! While you were away we managed to get our work done with lots of time to spare, so we cleaned the office."

Mustang rolled his eyes. "Who's on leave now?"

"Hawkeye, sir."

Chuckling, he went and sat down behind his desk. "Don't worry, then – it'll get back to its old state in no time."


	43. Wind

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Another sort of omake-style one :P

* * *

**Forty-three: Wind**

Every since he was a young boy, Roy had considered the wind a hesitant ally of his. In Xing, the wind had created such a beautiful breeze, cooling down some of the hottest nights. In Amestris, it played with his hair, and if he stood facing the right direction, he could watch each strand whip around, buffeted by a larger, invisible force. These small things made life less boring. Less of a fine, sunny day, and the beginning of something a little more exciting.

When he became a teenager, on a break from his alchemy lessons, he discovered skirts, and so, it seemed, did the wind. In that moment, he considered the wind less of a hesitant ally and more of a cheeky friend.


	44. Hair

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: This one is another young!Roy one. I didn't want to make it about Riza's hair because I've seen that before. But I'm still not entirely satisfied with the way this one turned out.

* * *

**Forty-four: Hair**

"Grow it out!"

"No, keep it short."

"Maybe you could just change the style?"

"Girls!" seventeen-year-old Roy said. "My hair's fine. I was actually asking about the suit. What do you think? Too pompous?"

His eldest foster-sister laughed. "No, Roy, nothing could be too pompous for you."

"That hair, however," started one of the others. She looked at the way his hair flopped down over his face as though she wanted to take a pair of scissors to it.

One of Roy's hands shot up protectively to his head. "No, Hannah. I'm not letting _you_ cut it again!"


	45. Awakening

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: I've had a lot of light-hearted ones. Had to stick a different tune in for a little while - contrast helps you appreciate it all the more, after all!

* * *

**Forty-five: Awakening**

At the ripe age of twenty-one, Roy Mustang didn't think he could be labelled as one of the innocents. He had worked hard for most of his life, he knew many things about how to be an adult that children did not, and he didn't have to be reminded by anyone to remember to bathe, eat in moderation or brush his hair. And that was what made him satisfied he was not longer an innocent little child.

Then there was the Ishbal rebellion, and Roy realised that he had been asleep all of this time not to realise the burden adults bore.


	46. All Night Vigil

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: This theme and the next sound related ("All Night Vigil" and "In The Dead Of The Night") but I didn't want to connect them. So, to make them different I made one a bit like this (a lot like this, in fact; it _is_ this!) and the other one more light-hearted.

* * *

**Forty-six: All Night Vigil**

There was a terrible feeling in the office as everyone left that evening. Mustang and Hawkeye had gone out on patrol earlier that day – just after noon, in fact – to check in with various informants around the city, and still had not returned. At around sixteen-hundred-hours Breda had joked that maybe they decided to go have some "quiet time" by themselves, and at that point they had snickered at the thought. Three hours later, as they left, any thought they had of that idea was more of a hope.

In a hospital, not far away, Hawkeye waited with her jaw clamped shut, standing at attention so that she didn't feel the need to pace. In the room next to her was a doctor determining just how good her boss' chances were of surviving the gunshot he received somewhere between the flower shop and the bakery. She would wait all night if she had to.


	47. In The Dead Of The Night

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Yargh, another OOC one. Also, my longest so far. But even if it is out of character, it has _Hughes_, and that makes it okay. Please? :3

* * *

**Forty-seven: In The Dead Of The Night**

Summer in the city was a hot, sweaty time. Day or night (although, admittedly more so at day), the ideal temperature would always be "just a bit cooler". Riza Hawkeye wasn't one to complain about many things, and although the heat of summer was one of those many things she wouldn't complain about, it still had a distinct effect on her. For example, when the heat was making it hard for her to get to sleep, instead of sitting up and folding her bed covers down as she might do if a little too warm, she kicked it off violently, pointedly ignoring the messy ball it fell into at the foot of her bed.

It was one of these sweltering nights when she couldn't get to sleep that several someones with familiar voices hadn't been able to get to sleep either.

"Look," one of the voices said, wafting through her window – the tone he used illustrated that the heat irritated him, as well – "it's the middle of the night and you've dragged yourself down here in your pyjamas, not to mention you've dragged me here, too. Just tell her and get it-"

"_Shh!_"

"Oh, come on."

"Maes, she'll hear you!"

"Then just get it over with."

Riza's jaw clenched and she scrunched her eyes up harder, trying desperately to drift off. She wasn't going to pay attention to those two if they were stupid enough to walk around in the middle of the night. If it wasn't for the pyjama comment, she'd think they had been out drinking. Perhaps they had been at Roy's home, drinking. In their pyjamas.

"I can't! Let's go!"

There was a pause and a slight "urk!" from that voice, as though he had been stopped unexpectedly, and Riza entertained thoughts of Hughes grabbing him about the neck, although that was most likely far from what had happened.

"Stop fretting. Just tell her, and then we can go."

"No, there's no point. It probably isn't a good time . . ."

"A good time? You've got to be kidding!" Maes laughed. "It's the middle of the night – what did you expect, coming here?"

A sniff. "I don't know. Maybe that she'd still have lights on and we could go in and take our time about it." If her eyes were open she would have rolled them.

"In your pyjamas?"

"It was on the spur of the moment!"

"Just-"

"_Shut up and go home_," she growled, stopping both voices all of a sudden. "If I don't get any sleep tonight, you won't in the least enjoy work tomorrow."

A silence fell, leaving the air ringing with expectation after her voice. There was a self-conscious cough, and a quivering, "G'night, Hawkeye," before footsteps allowed her to feel comfortable. She rolled over to a cool patch of mattress, and tried to sleep. If she woke up in the morning feeling refreshed and not out of sorts, she could convince herself it was all a dream.


	48. Side Of Face

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Spoilers for the past, once again.

* * *

**Forty-eight: Side of Face**

Learning alchemy in the Hawkeye home wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Roy's sisters told him he'd get the chance to be part of yet another family, and while it was true he was now part of the household, there wasn't really much of a family for him to be a part of. Just a miserable old man whose only passion was alchemy – and even that didn't seem to make him happy – and a quiet, down-trodden little girl.

Some days Roy was swept away by the amazing things alchemy could do, and he found himself thoroughly enjoying the way his days were spent in study. Other days he couldn't help but wonder how his teacher's daughter could turn the other cheek every time her father snapped or scolded, without offering a word of encouragement.


	49. Cold Hands

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: This is something my best friend says, because I often have cold hands. Especially in winter - my extremities get cold quickly. It's becoming a running joke of enough frequency that when I saw the prompt it was the first thing that came to mind . . .

* * *

**Forty-nine: Cold Hands**

"'Cold hands, cold heart'."

Hawkeye frowned. "What?"

"It's a saying," Mustang said with a grin. "'Cold hands cold heart'." The grin fell, and his eyes became unfocussed. "Or is it 'Cold hands, warm heart'?"

"I don't care," said Hawkeye, pulling her scarf tighter around her neck. "Just get that fire started, already."


	50. Fingertips

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Hints at my idea of Riza's childhood (which has already been shown in previous responses - 16 and 48), but no direct spoilers.

* * *

**Fifty: Fingertips**

As a girl, Riza had always been cautious. She'd gauge temperatures and emotions before she entered into a conversation, because she knew all too well how quickly an argument could be turned on her. To see her do it was quite like watching a child lean over a pool of water, testing the depth with one outstretched finger.

Over time, with people who allowed her to be more confident, she learnt that it was okay to join in even when things began to leave the shallows for deeper topics. On the odd occasion she was drawn into one of these conversations too fast, Roy noticed, she would become more of a listener than a participant in the conversation, once again testing those waters cautiously before she proceeded. It made her seem impersonal at times, but it made her Riza.


	51. Embracing From Behind

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Part 8 of my Future storyline arc. I know it's early, but I'm headed out and don't know how late I'll be home tonight, so I'ma postin' it nao :3 At the time I wrote this one I knew two heavily pregnant women (I still know them, but they're no longer pregnant), and I suppose they just helped it work, in my mind. One of the things in the second paragraph was actually something stolen from one of them XD -yoink!-

* * *

**Fifty-one: Embracing From Behind**

Pregnancy, Riza learned during her second year as Mrs. Mustang, made lots of things more difficult. Getting up in the mornings was a strain on her back. Holding onto the contents of her bladder was nigh on impossible with _someone_ kicking at it. Sitting at the dinner table, she had to leave her chair out, so she wouldn't be squished – which, consequently made staying clean a lot harder, because if something fell off her fork instead of dropping neatly onto her plate, it plopped down onto her now almost spherical belly. Even something as simple as hugging or kissing her husband required awkward bending, to get past the obstacle between them.

But then, Roy was around to help her with each of these problems. He could give her a hand in the mornings to hold onto as she hoisted herself up out of bed. When they went out somewhere, he took note of the closest toilets so that when she needed to go in a hurry, she knew exactly where to head. He always made sure there were serviettes at the dinner table, and reminded her to put one over her belly if she forgot. And he'd surprise her, by sneaking up behind her, putting his head over her shoulder, his arms around her belly, and nuzzling at her neck or cheek until she laughed.


	52. Hairclip

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: It was hard finding a new angle on this one.

* * *

**Fifty-two: Hairclip**

Hawkeye was a woman of simple tastes. She didn't wear make-up, and she had one very simple accessory: the clip she used to hold up her hair. Really, it was more of a practicality than a fashion statement, but it still added a feminine touch that she hadn't had when her hair was cut short. That way she didn't need to blow hair out of her face when she was signing papers, or trying to protect the Colonel.

That one little hairclip, with its practical use, was also a way for her to signal just how hard at work she was. Hair up: working. Hair down: relaxing. Taking her hair out and letting it hang loose was a way of telling herself that she didn't have to focus anymore. She didn't need to eliminate potential distractions before they occurred.

So every morning, she'd clip her hair up out of the way to get herself ready to work, and every evening she'd take it out, and remember that she didn't always have to be prepared.


	53. Sighs

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: I tend to write Hawkeye as having a terrible job keeping Mustang in line, don't I? :P I'm sure he's not as bad as I make out . . .

* * *

**Fifty-three: Sighs**

There it was again. That gusty, wistful noise. Hawkeye's eyes narrowed, and she tried not to clench her pen too hard. There were only four more forms for her to read through and sign, and then she'd be able to go on her break. It wasn't that long, really, just-

And again. She closed her eyes briefly before looking up. "Sir?"

Colonel Mustang was sitting at his desk, head resting on one palm as he gazed out the window. "It's such a lovely day out today, Lieutenant."

She gritted her teeth. "Yes, it is, sir. If you finish your work, perhaps you could have your break outside."

"Why do we have to work on such lovely days?" he sighed, once more.

"Other than our days off, we have to work every day, sir. Whether it's sunny, rainy, snowing . . ."

He didn't seem to hear her. "Do you know what would be perfect on a day like this? Ice-cream. Let's go get some ice-cream."

"After you've finished your work you can go on your break, sir, but you have to fill out those forms, first." Hawkeye scrawled a signature on the bottom of one of her four, having read through it as they spoke.

Mustang looked down at the papers on his desk. The rest sitting there would take him at least an hour to go through. A lamentable sigh slipped out of his mouth. Hawkeye took a deep breath and tried to ignore him.


	54. O Childsama

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Part 11 of my Future storyling arc. See my note at the end for clarification about Sasha's name.

* * *

**Fifty-four: O Child-sama**

Alexander Mustang was born into a family full of love and laughter. Known affectionately as Sasha by his parents and their almost familial former workmates, he was the first of a handful to be born to the group of friends – and the only one born to two of them. As such he was doted upon from the very beginning, like the first nephew or grandchild.

He was of the tender age of two when he received the news that would change his life more than anything he'd encountered before. Soon, he was going to have a sister.

At first he didn't understand. What did they mean, another child in the house? Everyone else seemed quite pleased by the prospect, but a second Sasha would be too many! He already became fussy if someone else claimed his parents' attention for too long. They already didn't divert all of their focus onto him – more people stealing it away would make things _impossible_.

When his mother explained to him that the bulge in her belly that he was feeling kicking at that moment was his little sister, he became angry. She was already spending more time with someone who wasn't there than with him! A sulky slap landed on her belly, where the kicking had been happening, and she looked at him in surprise, holding his wrist firmly before he could try again. "No Sasha. You don't hit people. It may hurt them. Do you remember how you felt when Daddy smacked you for throwing your toys? That wasn't nice, was it?"

Still, Sasha didn't have to like the intruder.

It wasn't until a long time later – for, as a two year old, a few months was a quarter of his life thus far – that Sasha got to meet his sister properly. His father had lifted him up, hands securely around his chest, so he could stand on the edge of a window looking into a room with lots of babies. Most of them were sleeping, and they all looked the same to Sasha.

"There's your sister," his father was saying, with that warm tone of voice that made Sasha feel safe. This time, the tone wasn't there because of him, and Sasha felt scared.

He sniffled. "Daddy, do you still love me?"

His father turned him about, so they could face one another. One pair of eyes wide and shocked, and the other red and tearing up, they observed one another. "Of course, Sasha! You don't think we'll love Suri more than you, do you?"

Sasha didn't speak. He just reached out and wrapped his arms around his father's neck as tightly as he could manage. He would survive, somehow.

* * *

_A/N: Yup, the name Sasha is a form of Alexander, somehow. It's a name for both boys and girls, and means "defender" or "defending men". I figure that's the sort of meaning Roy and Riza would appreciate._


	55. Infectious Crying

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: No spoilers, just, well, tragedy? I'm pleased with how it turned out, despite the events that occur.

* * *

**Fifty-five: Infectious Crying**

Of all people, it was Feury who didn't make it through their fight to save Amestris from itself. Mustang's whole team had been aiming to injure enough to take enemies out of the fight, but most definitely not to kill. If they couldn't have a bloodless uprising, they'd still have one without deaths.

So much for that.

As shocked and outraged as she had been at the bullet that had entered Feury's head at the left temple, leaving just behind his right ear, Hawkeye had been ready to continue on, pretending the young man was still crouching at his post, rifle at the ready. But then there was a mournful howl. She looked over, dreading seeing her fallen friend, but all the same unable to look away. Hayate, faithful hound he was, had sat by Feury's side, snuffling at his face and whimpering, letting loose one howl after another. Before she knew it, Hawkeye's eyes clouded over, blurred by the tears gathering. She tried to blink them back as best as she could – there was no time to cry on a battlefield.


	56. Skilful and Clumsy

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

* * *

**Fifty-six: Skilful and Clumsy**

When it came to guns, there was no-one better than Hawkeye. With handgun or a sniper rifle, she could easily beat anyone for aim without taking a second longer to line up her sights. Putting a shotgun in her hands was as good as saying "No-one's getting past without a giant hole in their body."

Mustang, in comparison, looked like a man who had never touched a gun in his life. Oh, he had one, and he knew how to shoot it, due to military regulations, but, while Hawkeye would hit the bullseye every time (although she still insisted she needed practice – she couldn't hit it dead-on every time, _apparently_), Mustang would hit the target itself, maybe three in every four shots. Less in a combat situation, when he didn't have time to aim.

He felt he was lucky to have her as his aide. She'd just snort and tell him not to get lazy and wander out in the rain without his sidearm.


	57. Feigning Sleep

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Yeah, it's another Riza-trying-to-sleep one. I think I may just have issues with people trying to wake me up XD

* * *

**Fifty-seven: Feigning Sleep**

The sound of Black Hayate's yips and barks woke Riza up earlier than usual one morning. He was usually such a quiet dog that the disturbance made her wary. The click of her door closing didn't help, and she was ready to get out of bed and face the intruder – armed, of course – when she heard a "Shh! Down, Hayate."

Riza's mouth curled up into a smile and her muscles relaxed after the tense readiness they had been held in. She closed her eyes, fully prepared to drift off once again until the voice spoke again.

"If you're still pretending to be asleep after all that racket, I'll _know_ you're lying."

She groaned in her throat, and called back through the door, "If you make me get up early on my day off, you'll have so much paperwork on your desk tomorrow that you'll think you must have everyone else's as well as your own . . ."

". . . Message received."


	58. Before Falling Asleep

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Part 15 of my Future storyline arc. There are so many sleep-related themes, so I had to do one in the arc, of course! And, bluphoenix5, I tried to search for your username to send you back a message but it wasn't there for some reason. I'm sure I've found you at some point before. Anyway, on the point you brought up about "O Child-sama", he was the only child from two of them _at the time_, in that first little handful of kids from the other guys. Sure, he has a sister now, but that's after that first paragraph.

* * *

**Fifty-eight: Before Falling Asleep**

As compared to other homes, the Mustang household could be considered a rather quiet place. There was the odd crying child from time to time, but their parties didn't get out of hand, their arguments were few, and the children were generally well-behaved, as befitted the Fuhrer's family. Bedtime, while hardly a matter for tantrums, didn't quite fit in with that peaceful image.

Suri, as playful as she could be, was still only three, and wasn't awake enough to cause much of a fuss. Instead, she followed her brother's lead, because, as a five-year-old, he was _much_ older, and _much_ more capable of nonsense than she was.

"No, I don't want to go to sleep," he'd say. "Can't I have a drink of milk first?" Suri, huddled beside him, always had a fistful of his shirt in one hand.

Mum or Dad (or perhaps both, if neither was busy) would look very serious. "That makes you wet the bed, remember? You've gone a whole week, now-"

"But I'm _thirsty_."

Or, if that didn't work, "But you're not going to bed."

"We're older than you are, Sasha. We don't need as much sleep."

He'd pout. Another tactic was one of his and Suri's favourites – and, coincidentally, his parents' favourite as well. "Can you tell us a story first?" What Sasha and Suri didn't realise was that their parents were quite capable of manoeuvring them into bed, and this just happened to be the easiest way.

"Alright," they'd be told. "But you both need to brush your teeth and wash your faces first. Then get into your pyjamas, and we can have a story in bed."

This meant that ten minutes later they'd all clamber onto Sasha's big bed – big for him, in any case – and Sasha would climb underneath the sheets. Suri sat on her mother's lap, or her father's, and the children drifted off, listening to the sound of their parents' voices. When both were asleep, the light would be turned off and Suri would be carried into her own room and put in her own bed.

"Stories about Xing?" (Or whatever had been the story's topic that night) "They want to start travelling already, don't they?"

And so a night would pass.


	59. Gift

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

* * *

**Fifty-nine: Gift**

"Hawkeye?"

It took a moment for Hawkeye to look up from the book she was reading. She was used to the guys from the office just steamrollering over whatever she was trying to do and making their own "needs" take precedence. She was met by the sight of a frowning Jean Havoc.

"Yes?"

"I was wondering," he said, as though this had been on his mind for a long time. "When the Colonel starts napping on the job, why is it that he never pays attention to us when we try to wake him up, even if it's two minutes to a deadline and he's still got a desk full of paperwork, but he always gets up straight away the moment you tell him to?"

She glanced over at Mustang's desk. He was slumped over his arms, behind a stack of unsigned papers, breathing deeply. The clock told her it was now _one_ minute to the deadline. Putting her book down, she knew she'd have to attend to the problem at hand.

"It's a gift, Havoc."


	60. At The Window

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Spoilish for Roy and Riza's childhood.

* * *

**Sixty: At The Window**

Riza didn't like the widow of her bedroom. It was on the second floor of her father's house – these days it didn't feel like her own home – and had quite a view. She could see all the way from the front yard of their house into the village. It made it quite easy to see bad news come and go. She couldn't remember good news arriving for a long time, but she could remember the bad. She remembered watching from her window as her mother's body was taken away, and seeing – quite by accident – the banker walk up the front path, on his way to tell her father that they were now in debt.

Worst of all, Riza thought, was seeing Mr. Mustang's back as he walked down into the village to catch the train back to his house. She wasn't _in love_ with him or anything – even she recognised that she was too young for love – but everything seemed easier when he was there. The house wasn't as empty, her father wasn't as grouchy, and she felt almost like a child again. Sometimes the atmosphere lightened so much that it was almost as though her mother hadn't died.

So, even though she hated the window, she'd still look out of it from time to time, hoping that she'd be able to see Mr. Mustang on his way back.


	61. DiaryJournal

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: This one us spoilerish for Roy's network and alchemical code.

* * *

**Sixty-one: Diary/Journal**

Hawkeye wasn't the sort of person to keep a journal. She was too practical; too focussed on how to deal with what was happening now, and what would soon occur to think about the past more than she had to. She didn't want to think about the past any more than was necessary.

Mustang wasn't the sort to keep a journal of the past either – he wasn't proud of the things he'd done – but then, keeping a journal didn't mean that it had to be an honest representation of facts. Yes, he kept a journal, but it was entirely misleading.

"_Monday_", it read, next to the date. "_Josephine decided my house needed lightening up. Flowers, she said, and Penny agreed. I now have two bouquets in vases, awaiting their approval._"

Anyone but he, in reading that, would have rolled their eyes and wondered at how he kept his job when he spent so much time pandering to various women's opinions. When he read, it reminded him that both of his informants thought the flower-shop was being watched. He'd have to receive his messages elsewhere.


	62. The Scenery From The Car Seat

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Less comedy, and more sarcasm. Can't blame Roy, though - he was pretty annoyed! (You'll just have to blame me, ack!)

* * *

**Sixty-two: The Scenery From The Car Seat**

It was a small town. A very small town, too far away from the train station, and the car they had to drive there wasn't even a car. And it wasn't even theirs. It was a horse-drawn cart belonging to the soldiers at the nearest outpost that they had had to borrow when they arrived at the station and Mustang realised just how unlikely hiring a taxi would be in such quiet countryside.

Still, even as they rode into Risembool, in that rickety cart – over many more potholes and stones than he could see from where he sat, when he leant over the edge – he could put aside his reservations, because Hawkeye sat across from him, prim and proper, and totally calm. Those reservations jumped back to the forefront of his mind when the cart driver informed him that those alchemists he was looking for were a pair of children, despite the claims in the letter he had received. Why did they have travel out so far from the city only to find this out now?


	63. Special Seat

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: And what's to say it wasn't his plan all along? Ohohohoho!

* * *

**Sixty-three: Special Seat**

"Sir, what is that?"

Mustang, grinning widely, took the time to farewell the men who had just delivered a giant box into the office. "Unless I'm mistaken – and I'm not," he said, with a predatory stride leading him to the box, "this is my new desk chair."

"New chair, boss?" Havoc, having taken the time to stop gaping, looked over at the chair sitting behind Mustang's old desk. "What's wrong with your old one?"

By this time, Mustang had opened the top of the box, and was pulling the dismantled chair out, piece by piece. "It's become stiff. It doesn't swivel any more, and barely leans back."

One by one, the other occupants of the room looked at the old chair disbelievingly. Just the other day, Mustang had had it leant back far enough to have his boots up on the desk. They remembered, because Hawkeye had made a fuss about the documents beneath his feet that he had unintentionally wrinkled and dirtied.

--

It was just a little accident, really. No-one was hurt much. The guys had been throwing pencils into the ceiling while finishing up at work, just to pass the time until Feury completed his paperwork and they could all leave for the bar they'd been planning on visiting. They had the sense to know that before they left they should remove the pencils still dangling from the ceiling, so Havoc had grabbed the nearest empty chair at the time – Hawkeye's – and used it to reach the pencils. It wasn't until an ominous creak sounded that they remembered that the reason Hawkeye was the one who used this seat was because the others in the office couldn't sit lightly enough on it for it to be considered safe. Without further ado, the chair collapsed, and Havoc was left sprawled on the ground, uninjured, besides a slightly bruised ego. No-one was hurt much – other than the chair.

They left a note of apology, and Havoc was fully ready to forfeit his chair until they'd found a proper replacement for Hawkeye to use. Somehow, though, they weren't entirely surprised when they returned to work the next week to find Colonel Mustang in his old chair, completely content with the fact that Hawkeye was using his new one.


	64. A Reason To Quarrel

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: I love the dynamic of the friendship between Havoc and Breda, but I don't think it can all be plotting together and all that sort of thing. There's got to be times for working too, or otherwise they'd have to be fired.

* * *

**Sixty-four: A Reason To Quarrel**

Breda was working hard when Havoc interrupted his steady process. While it had looked as though he'd finish twenty minutes early this evening, it no longer seemed in the plan – how could he concentrate with that git talking?

"Don't you think they're always too unified?" Havoc said, glaring over at their superior officers. He wasn't entirely pleased with them at the moment, because he'd been forced to put his cigarette out once again – although he should really know better.

"Doesn't worry me. It means they get their work done better," Breda told him quickly, in an attempt to get back to work.

"But it's disconcerting. They'll always back the other one up. Hawkeye says, 'No smoking in the office,' the Colonel says, 'Put it out.' They're like our _parents_ or something. Only they don't argue."

Breda snorted quietly. "It's for the best, mate, really."

"Nah," Havoc said. "I want to find something to make them disagree with one another. Nothing big. Just to prove that they aren't really one big monster in two bodies."

Turning pointedly back to his work, Breda sighed. "And we all thought that Scieszka was the crazy one."


	65. The You Reflected In The Glass

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: I'm always wary about how I portray Riza. I definitely don't think she's emotionless, but I think she has a fairly tight control over her emotions. Not completely (probably not as much as I've implied here), but I think she'd be wary of letting her innermost thoughts reach the surface.

* * *

**Sixty-five: The You Reflected In The Glass**

There were some things that Riza didn't let anyone see. Private things, like expressions and emotions she held back from her face because they revealed too much. She didn't keep her face as an entirely expressionless mask, but she did stop her thoughts from reaching her surface when others were around, in order to maintain a position of some ambiguity. So it was a surprise when she was reminded that there was one person she could never hide everything from.

"I saw that, Lieutenant."

She smoothed the amused smile off her face, hiding her shock. "Sir?" It hadn't really been that funny – just a reminder that things could go wrong, even for Roy Mustang. He needed that lesson to be repeated on occasion, so that his ego didn't inflate any more than it already had.

He turned from the window he had been standing at, an eyebrow raised in her direction. "I _can_ see your reflection, you realise?"

Instead of tensing up and apologising, she gave in to the urge and laughed.


	66. The Pounding Of A Heart

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: . . . What can I say? I had a few cheery ones in a row . . .

* * *

**Sixty-six: The Pounding Of A Heart**

_Thump-thump. Thump-thump._

"Sir!"

_Thump-thump. Thump-thump._

"Sir, where are you?"

_Thump-thump. Thump-thump._

Hawkeye no longer knew whether the noise pounding in her ears was her heart or her feet against the ground, as she ran from one wrecked part of town to another. They'd been apart for less than a minute when the earthquake started. It had torn through the town, pulling buildings down all along the main road. She'd never seen so much devastation.

"Colonel!?"

If that man hadn't survived this somehow . . . she didn't know what she'd do.


	67. Quirks

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Not _really_ a spoiler. But it is remeniscient of something that occured in one of the novels. I believe it was the Roy Mustang Observation Journal, or whatever it's called.

* * *

**Sixty-seven: Quirks**

"Hazel? . . . Ahaha, yeah, it's me. How are you? . . . Good! I was just calling because tonight's busy after all. Would you be interested in dinner tomorrow night instead?" The charm Mustang was oozing at that moment was almost unbearable. Luckily, half of his staff were out on their breaks at that moment. The other half were scrambling to get the rest of their work done, so they could leave the office.

"No, no – nothing's wrong," he insisted. "I've just found out I have . . . more work than expected." His eyes swept over the extra stack of paperwork that Hawkeye had unceremoniously dumped on his desk directly after he mentioned his date with Hazel to Havoc. The man had been distraught – Hazel was the pretty secretary at the front desk of the dentists' office he'd been eyeing for the past week – but the paperwork Hawkeye had had foisted on Mustang seemed to cheer him up. Sometimes Mustang didn't know whether Hawkeye did it because he insisted on making his information gathering look like dates, or to make Havoc feel better. As fellow snipers, they did seem to be close friends. She was gone now – she'd already had her break, but had announced she was going to go down to the shooting range. Mustang didn't like the look on her face when she left.


	68. Songs

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Part 12 of my Future storyline arc. Finally I've finished listening to everything on my playlist through at least once. I can go back to putting on The Killers' "Smile Like You Mean It" whenever I update this series.

* * *

**Sixty-eight: Songs**

Riza remembered very little of her mother – the woman had died before her father took Roy on as a student, which meant that Riza had been eight or younger. She didn't know for certain, because it wasn't the sort of thing her father would talk about. What she did remember consisted of soft, blonde hair, a gentle voice, and reminders that she couldn't have a pet because her father was allergic to cat hair, and dogs took too much attention for a little girl to care for one properly.

It wasn't until she became a mother herself that she realised she remembered more than she had thought. She remembered that she had quite thoroughly enjoyed bath-time while her mother was still there to help her with it. The best part about school in those days had been coming home to see her mother's smiling face (not what it later became: a method to get her out of the way of her perpetually mourning father). Breakfast had been early every day, so they'd be able to enjoy a full day ahead, not in the middle of the morning because it had taken that long for her father to remember to feed the both of them.

Most of all, Riza remembered the songs her mother had sung to her. Quiet lullabies that calmed her when she was crying, or made her forget her sore throat when she was sick. Riza was no singer, and didn't remember more than a handful of the words, but when it came to caring for her children, she still sometimes found herself humming one of those familiar tunes.


	69. Are You Satisfied?

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: I doubt Mustang'd really do this. At least, no more than once . . .

* * *

**Sixty-nine: Are you Satisfied?**

Mustang knew he shouldn't have done it; he shouldn't have burnt his paperwork. The problem was that it had just been piling up so badly. It had been a distracting day, and when he looked back down at his desk for the final time, there was still a giant pile of requests to read and petitions to ignore, and various other forms to sign. So, he had burnt them, while Hawkeye was out of the room.

Except for her raised eyebrow when she came to collect his severely diminished pile of work, he had thought he'd gotten away with it, too. Then he arrived at work the next morning to see that as well as the new day's stack of forms, he had another, familiar looking pile. Warily, he looked at Hawkeye, who gave him a challenging glare before getting back to her own work. He sighed – it was going to be a long day.


	70. Giddiness

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Part 2 of my Future storyline arc.

* * *

**Seventy: Giddiness**

The feeling of victory was like a river, rushing through Roy Mustang's chest, through his arms and legs, and all about his head. The river gurgled and pulsed, and swirled about until he was almost dizzy with the sensation. It was all he could do to stop himself from taking his aide's face in his hands and kissing her until all thoughts of paperwork and propriety had left her head. – But he still retained some restraint, and chose to wait until after the General bearing the announcement had left the office.

* * *

_A/N: Le gasp! 100 themes, and it took me 70 to get to a kiss? Well, give me a break - the manga's up to 93 and there hasn't been one there yet. On a side note, the new chapter came out today. It made me sqeal. Go read it. Now._


	71. Premonition

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Part 10 of my Future storyline arc. Because not everyone's perfect.

* * *

**Seventy-one: Premonition**

He had known the moment he had placed his hands on Riza's pregnant belly. There wasn't a doubt in his mind – "It'll be a boy," he said. His wife's shining eyes reflected his own.

There were many reasons he had married Riza, and just one of them was revealed when they found out it was a girl and she did no more than smile and tell him he had better choose a new name, if he wanted any say in the matter.


	72. Drawing A Boundary Line

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Spoiler for a manga-only character. His first apperance is at Chapter 32, page (_technically_ 28, but I'd say 27).

* * *

**Seventy-two: Drawing A Boundary Line**

The sounds of raised voices – or one raised voice, really – filled the office, that day. Hawkeye was surprised that for once it wasn't Edward and the Colonel arguing. This time, it was the Xingian boy, Ling, who had roused Edward's ire. Hawkeye couldn't help but find the Xingian amusing and exhausting at the same time. It was healthy for Edward to be friends – or perhaps 'rivals' was a more appropriate word – with people his own age, and Ling managed to fill the position so well. It was the boy's questionable talent of disappearing whenever trouble arose that Hawkeye managed to find exhausting.

"And once you've got your proof, you can go back to Xing and never come back!" Edward was shouting, now.

The overly-sincere smile on Ling's face was a trademark Hawkeye had been getting used to since the boy first followed Edward and Alphonse into the office. "Oh, but when I'm Emperor, I'll have to liaise with the surrounding countries! Not to mention that I think I like travelling . . ."

"Good!" Edward growled. "You've already spent too much time here – you can go and journey elsewhere!"

Looking up, over the boys' heads, Hawkeye caught the Colonel's eye. The man smirked and twiddled the pen in his hand. Of course he'd be finding amusement in the situation, she thought. Finally there was someone else to help him tease Edward and maintain some form of adolescence for him before he grew too old for his body.


	73. Parting

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Ay! Spoilers abound! Let me find where they all are . . . Spoilers for Chapter 85, pp 3 and 4; Ch89, p42; Ch 83 p13; Ch 87, pp38-43; Ch 80, p9. There are probably more, too XD

* * *

**Seventy-three: Parting**

Almost a dozen of them – Mustang, Edward and their comrades – were holed up in the Armstrong mansion after the coup had almost been ripped apart by the unexpected return of Wrath onto the scene.

Mustang, Hawkeye, Feury and Breda had all been there from almost the start – Havoc had his own, smaller, base to work from at first, but joined them when the place had been destroyed in the fighting. Edward popped in from time to time, but was really more of a visitor than a permanent fixture in the house, as, surprisingly, he went wherever Greed told him. Hohenheim, whom Mustang had felt both wary and honoured in meeting, did the same as his eldest son, but less frequently. It must have been a family trait.

But then Alphonse, Winry, and a frantic Mei appeared, not all together, but hot on one another's heels, and with news that shook the whole estate. Alphonse, damaged and seeming to fall apart before them, brought news of Pride and Gluttony. Mei, tearfully brandishing an empty jar, conveyed the news that Envy had found a new host. The only thing that could make the situation worse, it seemed, was if Lust was resurrected or recreated somehow. They'd never had to face so many impossible opponents all at once before.

As she was readying herself for the final battle of the coup – and possibly the final battle some of them would ever fight – Hawkeye felt a hand briefly slip around her own.

"Just in case . . ."

She avoided his eyes, but put a tight smile on her face. "Someone once said to me 'Never lose the will to live.' I have not, and please, sir . . . no matter what may happen . . . don't stop fighting to fix this ruined world. If I'm not there to watch your back-"

"Hawkeye!"

She stopped talking, hands stilled on top of the case in which she kept her rifle.

Mustang put a halt to the thoughts his mouth wanted to spill out before he could say anything just as rash as she would have. Eventually, he clapped a hand on her shoulder, in an attempt to firm his own resolve more than hers. "We _will_ meet again." Her expression reserved her opinion, but her eyes were doubtful. "That is an order."


	74. Great Distance

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Reference to my made up childhood for Roy, spoilers aren't any different to the ones in those theme responses. Putting it up early tonight because I'm heading out and don't know when I'll be back or how tired I'll be :P

* * *

**Seventy-four: Great Distance**

Once, when Roy was still young enough to remember Shi-kuen – the boy he had been – he travelled to Xing. His foster-mother's business took her there, and she was charitable enough to let him come along for the ride.

It was very different to the Xing he barely remembered. Madame pointed out that if she recalled his information correctly, he was born in a small town, and wouldn't have seen the big cities often, if at all. Still, Roy couldn't help but look at the vaguely familiar architecture, and the bustling markets, and think that his real home lay back along the path they had just taken.


	75. Why?

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: This and the next response are linked together. This one doesn't rely on the other, but the other begins with a "But", so it really needs this one before it to properly make sense.

* * *

**Seventy-five: Why?**

He hated explaining orders to her. She didn't always ask, but he could feel the lingering "_Why?_" in the air nevertheless, and knew that she didn't approve. By now he had learnt not to try to keep her out of the battle – she hadn't remained silent when he attempted that, in their first few months working together – but he still tried to find a place where she wouldn't be in the thick of it. It was fortunate she was a well-trained and practiced sniper, so she could still be used to her best abilities when stationed half a kilometre away.


	76. Watching Over You

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: This is part two. Part one is the previous theme response - if this one doesn't make sense, read that one first.

* * *

**Seventy-six: Watching Over You**

And that was what he was trying to remind himself of, as he fought the hardest he could (hardest he could while preoccupied with such thoughts). Even when Hawkeye was so far away from the battle, and so talented at what she did, he couldn't be certain that those two things would keep her safe. She may have been away from the majority of the fighting, but a queasy memory of her hastily hanging up when a "guest of honour" arrived in her clock-tower reminded him that it didn't mean she was untouchable.


	77. Implicit Rules

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Part 7 of my Future storyline arc.

* * *

**Seventy-seven: Implicit Rules**

When Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye were married, Roy found himself stumbling up against a few rules of their relationship he hadn't come across before. He had known before their wedding that there were certain things to do or not do, that he basically put under the heading "_Respect_ _Her_" – after all, it seemed to cover everything from "Don't flirt with other women," (she knew about his information network, and he assumed there was some form of an exception there), to "Keep it professional in the office," (if he started being lax in how he addressed her and treated her there, what was to stop others taking the same liberties, and lessening the deference her own subordinates were supposed to behave with toward her?).

Living together as man and wife, Roy found there were other rules he had missed out on – taking turns with chores, not feeding Hayate from the table, lighting fires with _matches_ (it was for safety, apparently). As much as he had to learn about these rules, and as much as he had to be told and occasionally reminded, he never heard mention of the rules they had abided by before. But still, he followed them carefully, and always felt warmed when he found her thankful and loving smile cast in his direction.


	78. Ideals And Truths

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Ay, return of the Ishbal.

* * *

**Seventy-eight: Ideals And Truths**

"I want to use my alchemy to help people!"

--

The desert was a terrible place to be. A terrible place to fight a war. Roy's blood boiled at day, and froze at night, and was at no point pleasantly in-between. At day, he was ordered to go out and send the Ishbalans into hell, purging the whole city with fire. He looked at his gloves sometimes, when the day's fighting was over, and wondered what Riza would think if she could see him now. At night, he tried to tell himself that he had no choice in what he was doing, or that he was protecting the people at home – but all along, he knew that he was just perpetuating a myth to keep himself happy. There could be no excuse for this bloodbath.


	79. Underwater no Futari

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: "Underwater no futari" is translated, roughly "the both of us underwater". This theme comes back to touch on the characters' swimming abilities, that I had a peek at in theme 23 (Someone I Want To Protect). Oh, and about the little-known coastal path - it is canon. Ling came to Amestris via the desert because he wanted to see the ruins, and Maria went out via the desert because she was less likely to be recognised as Not Dead through there, since less people go that way. The coastal path is only mentioned once in the manga, I think, by Ling or Ed or someone around the time of Ling's first appearance. So for people who aren't trying to sight-see, or who are moving around legally, the coastal path would be the more likely way.

* * *

**Seventy-nine: Underwater no Futari** (roughly "The both of us underwater")

Hawkeye hadn't been swimming before. She had grown up in a small village too far away from the coast for day trips, and her family had found other ways to amuse themselves before her mother had died. After her mother had died, she and her father didn't do much together.

Mustang, however, had grown up with a family full of children to entertain, and so, from time to time, they had gone out to new, exciting place, and seen things their childhood chums may not have had the chance to see. He had been to the seaside a handful of times, before, and if his swimming was not particularly strong - he learnt in lakes without currents - at least he knew how to do it.

It was on a business trip to negotiate an alliance with Xing that they came across a particularly nice beach. For the meeting, Xing and Amestris had agreed to convene on the neutral land along the ocean path between the two countries – a lot prettier than the ruins of Xerxes along the desert route, if not quite as historical.

"Are you just going to stand there on the shore all day? Come on in!"

Hawkeye's wary gaze moved up from the waves. She had been letting them wash over her feet for the past five minutes, but didn't move any further into the water. Mustang was already waist-deep in the stuff. "It feels a lot safer up here, thank you very much," she said, switching her weight from one foot to the other nervously.

"Hawkeye," he said, "I'm right here. If anything goes wrong . . . Nothing will go wrong." Mustang smiled at her encouragingly, holding out a hand. "Join me – it's lovely."

Somehow, the way his teeth chattered as he spoke didn't reassure her.


	80. Categorise

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Ay, number eighty. It feels like we're on the home stretch now. Only ten more days and these will all be over. And _lol_, I'm glad I re-read this before posting, because a particular sentence was worded very badly. Sounded way too sexual innuendo for this rating and for my intentions as a writer - eep!

* * *

**Eighty: Categorise**

"Brosh and Ross? Nah, I'd say they'll be right on the dating scene as soon as he has the guts to ask her out. She may be a bit hesitant at first, but" – Havoc clicked his tongue – "if he finds the guts to ask her, he'll have the determination to talk her 'round, too."

"You reckon?" Feury asked. "I would have thought he'd be rejected outright . . ."

"Hey. Hey," Breda said, poking at Havoc's elbow over the lunch-table. "What about . . ?" He twitched his head in the direction of the office.

Havoc frowned. "Who?"

"Y'know" – he twitched again – "The Colonel and Hawkeye."

"Ahh, those two?" Havoc shook his head with a laugh. "I put them under the heading of 'In Denial'. They'll get to it in time, but until then . . . They're just hopeless."


	81. Footsteps

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Spoilers for . . . well, I'm not totally certain where the first mention is, but it's all nicely summarised a little later at ch 56, p8

* * *

**Eighty-one: Footsteps**

When Mustang's staff were reassigned by the Fuhrer, the office felt bigger. He couldn't help but look over the room and wonder why it hadn't seemed so large when it was filled with his allies. Small differences stood out until they made his head ache, and he just wanted to see everyone again, to be sure they were safe.

Even the hallways of Central Headquarters seemed to have grown. It wasn't until a week after his staff had been replaced by a few officers _very_ loyal to the Fuhrer that he realised what he missed most was the sound of footsteps always at his back. Without those, he stood alone before the whole military.


	82. Words That Fade Away In Chaos

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

* * *

**Eighty-two: Words That Fade Away In Chaos**

It was funny – Hawkeye thought in the midst of the battle raging around her – that the things you remember when your life is seeping out of you, drop by drop, aren't always the things you've put the most importance on. In fact, sometimes they're the things that you've put aside, and left for another time. She berated herself for thinking of such things, because what she had spent her adult life – and the end of her childhood – fighting for was of benefit to more than just herself. Now she just wanted to be selfish.

She didn't think about the people she had killed in Ishbal, and mourned for years after. She didn't remember the way she had always wanted her father to love her. She didn't remember what the waitress at that café last week had told her, or what her firearms tutor had said about her gunmanship. The only words that mattered right now – that she could convince herself to care about – were the tear-filled ones beside her ear. Whether it was hasty assurances that she would live, or a strangled yell at some near-by soldier to go and get a medic already. All other words meant nothing to her, because she had the only one she'd ever need to listen to by her side, clutching her hand and trying to bring her back from the dangerous brink of unconsciousness.


	83. Crowd

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Part 3 of my Future storyline arc - and now I'm getting back to the sap.

* * *

**Eighty-three: Crowd**

Roy Mustang's official inauguration into the office of Fuhrer was a loud occasion of two parts: one public, and one private (or pretending to be as much). At the private party, following the public ceremony, a grand ball was held in the Fuhrer's mansion, for all ranking officers and their significant others. The mansion hadn't been completely restored to its former glory since the gentle eviction of Fuhrer Bradley's family and their belongings, but the rooms open for the event had been filled and decorated as thoroughly as necessary.

It was after all of the pomp and circumstance of speeches were through that dinner was served and the night was allowed to proceed at a more leisurely pace. Roy was scarcely allowed a moment alone, as all sorts of Generals wanted to congratulate him and get a measure of the man they had put in control. He eventually managed to escape after a jaunt to the washroom, and set out to find Hawkeye, wherever she had been watching him from – she'd never leave his back unprotected.

In time, he found her seated at a table with Breda and Feury, who were having an animated discussion about dogs – Feury for, and Breda against. Although she never seemed to be looking directly at him, or near him, really, she still managed to say, "Congratulations, Fuhrer Mustang," without turning to see who had just approached the table.

He took the seat next to her, and cast his eyes out to the various party-goers he didn't recall ever having met before. "Big group, isn't it?"

"You have more supporters now than you did while making it here," she agreed.

He nodded and hunched over a little, arms crossed on the table. "And you've put up with me through all of it. Would you be willing to put up with it a little longer?"

Frowning, she looked across at him. Roy couldn't help but smile at the way her lips twitched into a confused pout. Uncrossing his arms, he tapped the ring-box held in his right hand on the table nervously before setting it down in front of her.


	84. If You Would Only Turn Around

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Part 13 of the Future storyline arc. I think it's becoming clear by this stage that I'm falling in love with these little kidlets. They're just so much fun~! It's so hard not to enjoy OC kids, I think XD With this one, I was tempted to add an extra line at the end, but I couldn't word it to make it feel as proper an ending as this one.

* * *

**Eighty-four: If You Would Only Turn Around**

"Boo!"

. . .

"I _said, _Boo!"

"Sasha, I'm busy right now," Riza said, trying to read the cookbook in front of her and slice the stupidly thick carrot on the chopping board at the same time without trimming the end off her finger. "Aren't you supposed to be watching Suri in the lounge-room, like a big boy, while I make dinner? It's a surprise for your father's-" Having finally turned around to face her son, she stopped, shocked.

Little Sasha and Suri were standing there together, unsuccessfully trying to hold in their giggles at the surprised look their mother had. The younger had wonky, thick, black texta-glasses and what looked like red stars on her face and arms, and an assortment of coloured scribbles ran up and down each of her legs, to her knees. Matching scribbles appeared to cover Sasha from head to toe. Their clothing had escaped the majority of the damage, but the odd purple swirl or green zig-zag could be found on the sleeve of a shirt or the hip of some shorts.

"W-what happened? What's all this mess for?" Riza asked, carefully setting the knife in her hand down before she could get past her shock and into anger. She had mentioned more than once today that they had to keep nice and clean for when their father returned from the visit he was making to an old friend's grave.

His chest swelling proudly, Sasha announced, "We're monsters!" with a guffaw, closely followed by Suri's unnervingly charming smile and giggle.

The time until everything had to be ready was set in Riza's head, and she didn't have a moment to spare from her cooking to take care of things, so when the Mustang family sat down to dinner that night, Roy Mustang blinked in surprise.

"They're monsters," Riza said, stoically, and without missing a beat asked whether Roy was going to try his dinner or not.


	85. Surprise Attack

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Well, I had to have one in here somewhere relevant to the movie. As a note, I wasn't particularly impressed with the movie - honestly, what was Roy thinking? So this one has a few quasi-spoilers for that. Not to mention in the next sentence! For those unfamiliar with the movie, the part that has any relevnce to this story is that Roy demotes himself to Corporal and gets himself sent up north for two years or so, away from his old subordinates, and doesn't come back until Central is being attacked, at which point he helps save the day.

* * *

**Eighty-five: Surprise Attack**

He was back. After abandoning them for the frosty north, he had finally come back. They were surprised, heartened, proud, and most of all-

"Oof!" Roy Mustang doubled over and slid to the floor, hands clenched over the kidney that had just received a mighty blow. He breathed through gritted teeth and looked up at his attacker, his one remaining eye wide and questioning (although, the question would have to be "_What the heck was that for!?_" by the look he was giving).

And, luckily, he received a prompt answer. "_That_ is for giving everything up and demoting yourself to a Corporal!" Havoc growled menacingly. "After we've all done so much to help you – at risk to ourselves! And this," he added, flipping a piece of paper down at the reinstated Brigadier-General Mustang, "is for you to cash in if you don't go and immediately patch things up with Hawkeye."

When Havoc had walked away and Mustang felt he didn't need to protect his injured kidney any longer, he reached for the paper and turned it over to the side with writing.

_I.O.U. one right-hook._

Even five minutes later, Mustang could still be found sitting on the ground, laughing to himself for ever thinking his old (and once again) subordinates were only loyal to him. Their time together, it seemed, had made them even more loyal to one another.


	86. Syllogism

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Part 1 of the Future storyline arc. And, from an online dictionary, this is what a syllogism is: "A form of deductive reasoning consisting of a major premise, a minor premise, and a conclusion; for example, _All humans are mortal,_ the major premise, _I am a human,_ the minor premise, _therefore, I am mortal,_ the conclusion. " I'm not sure my attempted syllogism is entirely in line with that, but I tried.

* * *

**Eighty-six: Syllogism** (Part 1 of the F. Storyline Arc)

From Ishbal through to boring deskwork, there was always too much to be done. There were always people bothered by what Colonel Mustang did, or could do, or would do, some of them enough to be a pain, and others enough to try to turn his every move against him.

Lieutenant Hawkeye's position wasn't much better. As she didn't strive to further her own career, she had less colleagues intimidated by her youth at such a rank. What they were intimidated by were her skills, and unluckily that put her in high demand for sniper missions – when her own office could spare her. It was more physically dangerous to be in her position.

Because of these jealous people, and these dangerous missions, Mustang and Hawkeye knew that they'd never be particularly safe, and acted accordingly. Lieutenant-Colonel Hughes never saw it exactly from their point of view, though. To him it was a simple syllogism: Roy needed a wife. Roy and Riza _obviously_ loved each other. Therefore, Riza should be Roy's wife. Unfortunately, whenever he tried to explain it to Mustang that way, the line on the phone would emit a disappointing, repeating beep.


	87. Memories

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Writing "Surprise Attack" (theme #85) must have put me in mind of the anime side of things, rather than the manga, because the first thing that came to mind for this theme was anime-based. Heavy spoilers for the end of the anime. The very end. Like, last episode end, I'm pretty sure. Oh, and this is pre-movie, so Roy hasn't demoted himself yet.

* * *

**Eighty-seven: Memories**

It had been explained to them, before they arrived, that although Alphonse Elric had his body back, he could remember nothing of the time between when his soul was transmuted into the armour and when it was returned to his body. As far as he could recall, he was only eleven years old, and it looked as though everyone else had aged without him. Still, that didn't prepare Mustang for meeting the boy.

Mustang could see the family resemblance – the shape of that face, those round eyes, and the light hair. It was all reminiscent of the older brother who had disappeared the same night Alphonse returned to his body. But there were still differences that separated him from Edward – the lack of mutiny written in his eyes, for one.

Alphonse had looked up in interest at the door when Winry answered it, but after observing what seemed to him to be strangers, he returned to his apple-pie with gusto. A pained smile flitted across Mustang's face as he noted the two brothers shared an appetite.

"Oh! I'm glad you're here!" Winry said, opening the door properly so that Mustang and Hawkeye could come inside. "Al, this is Brigadier-General Mustang and Captain Hawkeye. They'll be able to fill you in on some of the details of your missing years that I wasn't there for."

Setting his pie down, Alphonse swallowed his mouthful and stood up. "Pleased to meet you," he said in a voice that was missing its metallic echo.


	88. Given Name

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: A nice short, dialogue-driven piece :3 The guys speaking are kept nameless (although you can assume they're the office boys), because I didn't want to pin that meaning on anyone in particular.

* * *

**Eighty-eight: Given Name**

"Chosen one."

"Pff, how puffed-up did your parents want you to be?"

"Hah, well they tried their best to remedy that!"

"Hey sir." The call came from across the room, during a particularly refreshing break from work. "What's your given name mean?"

Mustang shrugged, smiling lazily. "What else could it mean but 'King'?"

"I think your parents wanted you to have the same problem as the 'Chosen one' here."

"Yeah," 'Chosen one' laughed. "Pity _his_ childhood didn't bring his head size down a few notches."


	89. Saishu Heiki! Ultimate Weapon!

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Yet another story in the Roy, Riza, Maes format. This one is more fun, though :3

* * *

**Eighty-nine: Saishu Heiki! Ultimate Weapon!**

Roy Mustang was feared and loved throughout many nations as the great wielder of flame alchemy. He could easily burn down a whole city with just a snap of his fingers.

Riza Hawkeye was whispered about, as the young girl nicknamed "the Hawk's Eye" in the Ishbal war, able to pick off a moving target at a distance most people wouldn't be able to find the target at all.

But, despite the infamy of the both of them, Maes Hughes was feared far and wide, because everyone knew that no matter where you hid, he _would_ find you, and you _would_ have to spend the next hour fawning over the pictures he kept of his daughter, or something inexplicable and _terrible_ would happen to you.


	90. Hidden Expressions And Hidden Feelings

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: This piece is related to those I wrote for themes #19 and #30. This one is Feury telling the others about the conversation he overheard. The particular manga section referred to is (still) Chapter 37, pages 3, 4, 13, 26, 27, and 31-33.

* * *

**Ninety: Hidden Expressions and Hidden Feelings** (related to #30 and #19)

"Lieutenant Breda," Feury ventured one day, "I was thinking about a conversation I overheard, and . . ." He bit his lip thoughtfully as he considered his next words. "Do you think there might be something going on between the Colonel and Lieutenant Hawkeye?"

A frown crossed Breda's face. Sure, he had considered it sometimes, but those two? Hawkeye could be a stickler for rules when she wanted to be, and Mustang was more likely to let things just roll by. Opposites were said to attract, but all those two seemed a good pair for was poker. If anyone had a good poker face, it was Hawkeye, and Mustang had the skill to get the winning hand. "Nah."

On the other side of the room, Feury not having spoken as quietly as he had hoped, Hawkeye and Mustang swapped wary glances. If any of their feelings were hidden it certainly wasn't from each other.


	91. Kiss

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Part 6 of my Future storyline arc. Well, it was hard to avoid putting a kiss in this one, since _that's what the theme was._ But, in true Dailennan style, instead of making it all romantic, I made it ungainly and kinda cute :3

* * *

**Ninety-one: Kiss**

Kissing was supposed to be fun. Easy, even. It wasn't like it took much work – it just happened, right? And yet, Roy and Riza both thought their first kiss (and a few of the subsequent kisses that followed) to be one of the most awkward things to have happened to them. Not to say it wasn't entirely pleasant, just that . . . after knowing one another and working together for so long, maintaining a somewhat professional relationship the whole time, progressing from that to a romantic relationship was enough to make them feel like two bumbling teens. It was both embarrassing and exhilarating.


	92. Happiness

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Part 18 of the Future storyline arc.

* * *

**Ninety-two: Happiness**

"This is it," Riza found herself saying to Roy one day. They were waiting for their driver to come to pick them up so they could drop Sasha and Suri at school, and head to work in Central Headquarters. "This is what happiness feels like, isn't it?"

There was no more striving to get higher on the food chain until Roy could get to the top and fix the problems with what was going on further down that chain; things were looking peaceful for Amestris, at least for the time being; they had each other, and two gorgeous children; and finally it seemed like they had completed or put into motion all they had intended, and it was getting done.

A smile curled around Roy's mouth. "I think you may be right."


	93. Shackles

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: The "laboured breathing" was due to injury, hence the worry and lack of talking.

* * *

**Ninety-three: Shackles**

The rattling was the worst part. There he was, locked in a cell underneath Central Headquarters, cuffed and shackled where only a handful of people remembered he existed – and less than half of them cared – yet the thing that irritated him the most was the sound of the iron around his wrists and ankles rattling and clinking. It was unbearable. Every clatter served to remind him of just where he was.

– And yet, he could put all this fuss behind him. Yes, he'd headed the coup attempting to topple the corrupt leaders of Amestris. When it failed, he didn't expect to be allowed to live, let alone have two legs left (despite sprains, bruises, cuts and possibly a break) to walk the square that was his four-by-four pace cell.

He didn't know what was happening in the world outside, who was in charge, whether anyone knew what had happened during the past eight days. All he knew was that if he sat still enough, through the silence he could hear the laboured breathing of his faithful aide and co-conspirator in the next cell over, and as long as he could hear that breathing she was still alive. So every time he moved and the chains strung about him jangled in chorus, he cursed and listened close to make sure there was still breathing on the other side of the wall.


	94. From Yesterday

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: The longest of my prompt responses. For this prompt and the two following I've let go of my usual desire to write something _different_: like many other Royai 100 theme challengers, I've written "From Yesterday" as past, "Now" as present, and "Tomorrow, Too" as future. I hope what I've selected from past, present and future will be different enough for us that they don't seem mere repeats of work seen before :) Oh, and spoilers for Roy and Riza's childhood.

* * *

**Ninety-four: From Yesterday**

The Hawkeye household was a strange place. After living with his foster-mother and -sisters, Roy wasn't used to everything being so quiet. Upon finding out that Master Hawkeye had a young daughter, he had thought he'd have a playmate he could make fun of for once, instead of being forced by three older girls into a dress and made to be the baby in a game of families. At least, he insisted he was forced when they were caught playing. Fully prepared for a snobby little brat, with flounces in her skirts and bows in her hair, he had been almost eager to do the things he heard other boys did to their sisters that he most emphatically had not been allowed to do – hide frogs in their beds, put mud in their tea, cut their plaits when they weren't looking – and had been most disappointed when she turned to be a shy little child who had little enough inclination to look him in the eyes most of the time, let alone argue with him until he felt justified in playing beastly tricks on her.

It was almost three weeks after he had been living with his teacher and little Riza before she said more than four words put together to him. He was in the sitting room, browsing the selection of books in the bookshelf (there were too many books in the house to fit all of them in the study as well as Master Hawkeye's work desk, so some were in other rooms, too), when a slip of paper, or some similarly thin _thing_ sticking out slightly between two books above his head caught his eye. He stood up on the tips of his toes to pull it out, thankful that even if he was short for his twelve years, he was still able to reach it without the aid of a chair.

He'd barely caught his fingers about it and started to pull it out of the shelf when he heard a soft voice saying, "Do you have it?" from behind him.

Startled, Roy abandoned the item of his curiosity to meet the face of his master's daughter. Rather than maintaining her usual cool façade, her eyes were bright and eager, and he even thought he could see the beginnings of a smile hinted at about her mouth.

"Can you reach it? Can you get it down?"

"I. . ." Roy frowned, trying to push away the guilty feeling that he had been caught doing something he shouldn't. "Yeah, I can reach it. I was just-"

"Get it for me."

The tone she used made him feel confused. Where was the shy little girl who seemed almost as distant as her father when he wasn't teaching? Roy supposed that just as the man could liven up about alchemy, she could seem focussed when she wanted to, as well. Despite his resolution to be the boss in this house, away from his sisters, he did as he was told, and returned to his former task, slipping the thing out of the bookshelf.

It was a photograph, he found, one of those old family photos like he saw at his friend Gavin's house, with everyone sitting or standing together, looking at the camera. There weren't any photographs like that in his house – none of the children would sit still for long enough to take a picture that didn't have at least one of them turning to speak with one of the others, or about to sneeze, or playing with their buttons. Madame wasn't a stickler for formality – not when it didn't matter, anyway – so she didn't make them take perfect pictures. This one, however, had a younger, better-groomed Master Hawkeye, his light moustache and beard neatly trimmed and his hair pulled back. His face was rounder – less gaunt and haggard. He was standing beside a woman seated in a chair. Her dark hair was pulled neatly away from her face and rolled at the back of her head, round eyes smiling out easily at the camera as though she was sharing some sort of secret. One of her hands rested easily on the shoulder of a much smaller Riza, who stood in front of the pair, a charming smile on her face. The little dress she wore, the stockings and shoes with it, and the ringlets that must have been painstakingly put into her hair – as it usually hung perfectly straight – and then into little ponytails, all combined to make her look like a little doll, clutching at her mother's skirt.

There was only a moment in which Roy held and looked at the picture before it was whisked away, out of his grasp. He looked up to see Riza holding it tightly to her, looking as though she was about to burst into tears, rather than seeming pleased at his helping her out.

"Was that your mother?" he asked, somewhat tactlessly in an attempt to engage the little girl in conversation.

She frowned at him, fingers tightening over the corners of the photograph. "She _is_ my mother."

"Oh." Roy looked at the bookcase nervously. "I just thought she was dead – you know, because she's never around."

There wasn't a reply.

"When was the picture taken?"

An annoyed breath preceded another short answer: "Yesterday."

Roy frowned. Yesterday, he and Master Hawkeye had been in the study for most of the day, as usual, going through the practical uses of alchemy. As far as he knew, for the majority of that time, Riza was playing or reading in her room. Beforehand, they had eaten breakfast together, in between they had a quick luncheon, and afterwards was dinner. Riza might have been off somewhere having photographs, but Roy knew Master Hawkeye wasn't, and the stubble all over his face was too uneven to be that same well-groomed growth; Riza herself must have been at least four or five years older than that little doll.

But, as Roy opened his mouth to tell her she was doing no such thing the previous day, he saw the way she looked down at the image, and remembered the tears waiting to fall from her eyes. He didn't need a wailing eight-year-old on his hands at the moment, especially if that photo was tucked away because it was meant to be kept hidden.

"That was a fine day for a photograph, yesterday," he said, instead.

Beside him, Riza nodded solemnly.


	95. Now

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Jas' a bit shorter than the previous one - but as I said, of the past, present and future, this one is the present. (Is a gift from me to you ;D )

* * *

**Ninety-five: Now**

"You've got him in your sights?"

Hawkeye inched the barrel of her rifle to the left. She was safe, bunkered down in the second storey of a house where no-one would notice her unless they saw the flash of her gun. And then if her targets were far enough away she could hope that anyone who witnessed the flash itself wouldn't see the effect, and might think it was just the sunlight gleaming on a piece of glass.

"Trained right on him, sir," she said, keeping the crosshair on her target. Her palms were beginning to sweat already. During the action, she wouldn't have time to think – just act and react – and so sweaty palms and nervousness wouldn't be a problem there, but now, in the adrenaline-filled calm, she couldn't help but feel a prickle of nervousness. Everything _would_ go to plan. It would.

"You hold that, Lieutenant. Havoc, your target?"

Another scratchy voice came through the headset Hawkeye wore. "Just a moment." A slight pause. "Mmkay, this fellow's a hair's breadth from a bullet in the spleen."

Mustang's voice returned. "Remember, we don't have long, and we want to make this a clean victory. No deaths. That is a Do Not Kill order, folks. Take them out of the battle, but let them see that we're walking the higher moral ground. So everyone's ready?"

A chorus of affirmative answers sang through various levels of static.

"Alright, then. Wait for my order . . . Now!"


	96. Tomorrow, Too

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Part 17 of my Future storyline arc. I think this may the only one that actually shows Suri talking . . . odd. She's not a shy girl, but I guess just not talkative. At this age, anyway!

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**Ninety-six: Tomorrow, Too** (Part 17 of the F. Storyline Arc)

It was almost three hours since the children had been put to bed when Roy and Riza started to get ready to sleep. Roy had just gone to make sure they were sleeping peacefully while Riza finished brushing her teeth. It had been a long day, filled with meetings and the State Alchemists' progress reports, including one very excited report from Alphonse Elric on his discoveries about the healing uses of Xingian Rentanjutsu. Then there had been fusses about name-calling at school ("Sasha! You're not allowed to call people mean names at home, so why did you think you were allowed when you were somewhere else?"), and a distinct need for new socks to replace the holey ones remaining. Roy and Riza had shared the load between them, and the handful of reports unchecked would be looked at tomorrow, new socks could be bought, and stubborn children could be disciplined.

As she washed her toothbrush off, Riza wondered why Roy hadn't come back yet to go through his own bathroom routine. Conscious of her light summer pyjamas, she wandered out into the hallway, past the open window, and checked inside Sasha's room, and then Suri's. Sasha was fast asleep, holding tight to a sorely mistreated stuffed rabbit. At the doorway to Suri's room, Riza stopped.

Roy was sitting on the edge of the bed, brushing back his daughter's hair from her face. "I've checked everywhere," he was saying in a low hum of a whisper, so as not to disturb Sasha in the next room – the boy was notorious for taking any excuse to get out of bed if he awoke, "and there are no monsters."

Suri yawned widely as Roy spoke, and then sniffed loudly. Riza winced and tried to remember where the nearest tissue-box was. "Not- Not even under my bed?"

"Nope. None there," Roy said confidently.

She rubbed at one eye with a hand. "But what if they're back tomorrow?"

"Then I'll check tomorrow night, too," he told her.

After thinking to herself for a moment, Suri finally nodded, as though anything else would have been unacceptable.

"Now, are you really going to go to sleep this time?" Roy asked. "That's a long time to stay awake by yourself."

"Yes, Daddy."

Riza smiled as he leant down to hug the little girl and kiss her cheek. "I love you, Suri."

"I love you too, Daddy. Good night."


	97. If I Die

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: . . . I'm quite pleased with how this one turned out.

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**Ninety-seven: If I Die**

After so many years fighting – whether openly in war, or behind closed doors in the peacetime – Roy Mustang did not expect to be spending his last days in a hospital. Well, perhaps he would have, if he suffered a terrible but-not-immediately-fatal wound that the doctors tried to patch up and failed. He could easily have been sent to hospital at any point in Ishbal. But he didn't expect to be in there, slowly dying of influenza.

His chest felt as though it had been stripped raw of every last inch of skin, and his lungs had had a razor dragged over them. Roy didn't remember the last time he had been able to breathe without it hurting. The doctor said he was feverish, and he didn't believe the man, even when Hughes came to visit.

"What are you doing here?" he asked groggily, through snatched breaths.

"Thought you could use some company," Hughes said, from the chair Roy hadn't noticed him sit down in.

The meaning of his question _had_ been "Aren't you dead?" but this reply still seemed to satisfy Roy. He clutched at the sheets on his bed weakly. "Maes, I've been thinking." (The other man cocked his head to one side as Mustang coughed painfully.) "When I die-"

"_If_ you die, chief."

"No – when. When I die. Take care of Riza."

It took Hughes a minute to answer. "What do you mean?"

Roy swallowed painfully. "Make sure she doesn't do anything stupid. She's given up before when the enemy played tricks on her– but it won't-" He had to break off as a coughing fit came over him, and flecks of mucus mixed with blood flicked out over his chin. He ignored it, struggling to continue. "Won't be tricks this time. Don't let her be alone."

"Careful there," Hughes scowled, leaning forwards but not getting up. "Just because you- you _think_ you're going to die doesn't mean you should make it happen quicker."

Roy didn't seem to be paying attention. He was too busy trying to focus on still breathing – although he didn't know why he bothered; it was only prolonging the inevitable.

"D-Do you want me to go get a nurse?"

"N-" He couldn't even finish the one word he wanted to say without coughing again. His lungs burnt, and he thought it proper that in the end he should die feeling the same sort of pain as the many people he'd killed through his life.

Hughes was up in an instant, moving before he even seemed to stand. Roy was too busy trying to stop his ribcage from falling apart with each shudder to notice that he didn't hear footsteps. Only a slight squeak of rubber on the linoleum, and a mechanical sort of whirring.

"Nurse! Nurse!"

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_Notes: So did anyone pick up on who "Hughes" really was? Definitely a manga character, not an anime character._


	98. After the Rain

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: So I sort of redefined rain - or the content of it, at least. Possibly Ishbal spoilers?

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**Ninety-eight: After the Rain**

It was carnage. Ishbal was no war. Amongst the soldiers – those who grew to hate what they witnessed, instead of glorying in it – it became known not as the Ishbal war or the Ishbal rebellion, but as the Ishbal massacre. Sometimes, when a State Alchemist became a little too exuberant with their task (some of Kimblee's larger explosions were a good example), a finger or a bone from his attack could fall almost a minute later, hundreds of metres away. It was a rain of blood.

After the battle, when everyone except the sentries and patrols had come back to camp for the night, the soldiers would gather around the campfire, trying to push aside the grim happenings of the day with stories from back at home, or training days, or letters from the people they were protecting. Roy never really seemed to hear what they were talking about. All he could think of, when the desert grew cold, were the faces of the people he had killed that day, as they came to the realisation that they wouldn't see the next day.


	99. Welcome Home

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: This is the second last one. This'll all be finished by tonight - what a strange idea!

* * *

**Ninety-nine: Welcome Home**

Returning home after a hard day at work always put Riza in automatic mode. She'd drive – or walk – home on autopilot, ignoring the pain in her legs, if they had been out doing rounds of the city that day. When she arrived at home, she'd bathe, dress, cook, and eat out of habit rather than any particular desire to do so. Then, after a page or two of her book – mind you, this was a particular strenuous day – she'd settle down for the night and crawl into her bed thankfully.

Things weren't so easy when she had a dog. He needed to be fed, and he liked to have company and be company, which was fine if he was calm about it, but other nights he was restless and Riza just didn't have the patience to play. But he was adorable, and obedient, and she found herself warming more and more to Hayate the longer she had him. At least now she had someone to welcome her home each night.


	100. Until That Day

Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Part 4 of my Future storyline arc. Well, this is the end of it! So long, farewell, and I hope to see you at my oncoming stories (so perhaps more of an au revoir). Thank you to everyone one of my readers and reviewers :) Oh, and I was thinking of putting the Future arc all together in order in another story. Is anyone interested in seeing that, or is it fine as is?

* * *

**One Hundred: Until That Day**

"As the new Fuhrer of Amestris, I intend to remain accountable to the people. I rule here only because you allow it, and should I stray from my path, I want to be informed. I want to know what I'm doing wrong, so that I may remedy it before it leads to the same sort of prejudice and destruction our nation was led to under Bradley's reign."

It was a mixed crowd. Fuhrer Mustang's speech and the new laws he had just put in place – and the old ones he had dismantled – a mere fortnight after he had been given the position had turned heads. It was a very controversial step, and the papers were already buzzing with news about how young the new Fuhrer was, and whether that youth would mean an impulsive leadership or whether it would bring a welcome freshness to a stuffy old job.

"Together, we Amestrians can work towards a day when people from Ishbal, Xing, Aerugo, Creta and Drachma acknowledge us not as enemies, but as a people of justice, and of freedom. Until that day I will not give in. I will not step aside. I will not compromise. Because, as a nation, we have failed the countries surrounding us before, and I am not going to stand back while Amestris still has a bad name."

A cheer rose up from the majority of the crowd, spurred on by patriotism. Yet, from her position, Riza couldn't help but notice a few sullen expressions. There were bound to be some, but she had hoped there wouldn't be quite as many. _Still_, she thought as she twisted the engagement ring on her finger, _if anyone can manage to pull through, it is him._


End file.
